


Finding Haven

by OrangeTabby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artisan bread, Bakery, Delicious noms, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Humor, Tiny Cakes, awkward dating, kitten shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-10-18 17:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeTabby/pseuds/OrangeTabby
Summary: Cullen Rutherford bought a bakery with the payout he received after leaving the special forces in traumatic circumstances. He devotes himself to his new craft, finding peace in the simple skill of making delicious baked goods that make people happy. The arrival of a new person in town interrupts his calm existence and his life will never be the same again….City-girl Evie Trevelyan is stressed out, broke, and desperately in need of a new start after an ugly relationship break up. She finds her own haven in a small town at the foot of the Frostbacks, meeting the eccentric locals and forging a new life on her own terms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a fluffy AU to work on, for moments that just need fluff and sweetness. I hope you all enjoy this work :-)

There were many ways Evie Trevelyan thought she might begin her new life. She’d had fantasies of driving out of Ostwick towards a new, brighter future, flipping the bird to her old life and arriving in effortless style at her Aunt’s boutique cottage, of which she was the proud new owner. Maybe she’d get an inspiring job doing… whatever jobs were around in small country towns in the ass end of Ferelden. Something artisanal? Possibly she could open a high-end bed and breakfast at the cottage, which her Aunt had described as ‘charmingly rustic’. Perhaps she could write a novel or three, becoming a mysterious yet compelling local celebrity who set the local fashions by wearing the flowingest of long skirts and the chunkiest of necklaces. She might discover a talent for painting and become a bohemian artist, raising fancy chickens and becoming self-sufficient through the rustic and well-maintained garden the cottage was sure to have.

Relief at getting away from the city of Ostwick and all the horrible shit that happened there had kept her going through the rough ferry crossing over the Waking Sea, the terrifying mountain roads of the Black Hills in northern Ferelden, the midge filled riverlands north of Lake Calenhad and through the endless farmland west of the lake and finally the heavily forested Frostback foothills.

So here she was, almost in Haven. Evie brushed her wet hair out of her eyes with the back of her mud-covered hand. Stuck on the side of the road, dealing with a burst tyre in the driving rain didn’t seem very compatible with high end accommodation or fluffy chickens. The rain had soaked through her favourite charcoal grey jersey and she had no waterproof clothing to hand. Dreams of artisanal self-sufficiently were no match with the desire for a nice comforting hot chocolate. With extra chocolate on the side. She also hadn’t changed a tyre since she was in high school when the PE teacher made them all learn, the only useful thing she ever learned in physical education.  

Several piles of her possessions sat in the least muddy patch of mud she’d located behind her car. She’d covered them with a blanket, allowing access to her spare tyre and tools in the boot. Having her bedding get damp and muddy might have even been worth it if she wasn’t missing the tool that would allow her to loosen the screw things attaching her old tyre to her car.

Evie growled and kicked the car. “Maker’s balls,” she muttered.

 _I’m not that far from Haven now. Maybe someone from the local garage would drive out here and bring a spare… what’s it called? Nut winding thing?_ she thought. _After I did so well jacking up the car and everything. Also remembering the lifting thing is a jack._

Evie fished her mobile phone out of her bag and looked at the screen.

_No service. Because of course not. Shit._

She regarded the car filled with all her worldly possessions, all propped up with the damaged tyre off the ground, undrivable and still with the bad tyre attached.

_I guess I can lock it up and try to walk for help? I’ve driven past farms, they’ll have a phone. Or a wheel attaching wotsit unwinding thing._

She put the base back in the boot, leaving the spare tyre out, and loaded the damp bags of clothing and mud splattered bedding back into the boot. She retrieved her handbag and slung it across her body, over her soggy jersey. Locking the car up she gave it another kick and then sighed heavily and set off in the direction she came from. It had been mostly farmland before she’d hit the forest, but she’d noticed the occasional homestead.

She’d only walked a few metres when a white pickup truck slowed down and pulled over in front of her car. Evie turned around and watched as a large blond man hopped lightly out of the cab. He grimaced as the cold rain hit him, but walked towards her, giving her jacked up car a side eye on the way past. The chap was nice enough looking, Evie supposed, if one wasn’t fed up with relationships and intended to acquire cats and self-respect instead of a potential love interest. He was wearing a tight navy-blue t-shirt with “Dough Business” monogrammed in gold on the chest pocket. Maker’s breath though, he appeared to have quite a physique under that shirt. If one was looking. Which one was not.  

 _Stop staring Evie_ , she admonished herself. _He’s either here to steal your stuff or help you. Let’s hope it’s the latter…_

She opened her mouth to greet the man, but was distracted by a clattering as a very large Mabari launched itself out of his truck.

The man turned around towards his dog. “I told you to stay in the truck! You’ll get muddy out here.”

The Mabari had a pink floral bandana tied jauntily around its neck. The dog ignored its owner and trotted over towards Evie, wagging its tail and panting. She automatically held out her hand for the dog to sniff.

The man looked at his dog, then her car, the many boxes in her car and finally her. “Do you need a hand with that tyre?”

“Oh yes, I’m short one of those wheel nut, um, loosening things.” Evie mimed a vigorous unwinding motion.

The man’s lips twitched slightly upwards. He had a scar bisecting his upper lip on the right-hand side.  “You mean a wheel brace? The wrench that loosens the lugs on the wheel?”

Evie smacked her forehead. “YES! Oh, thank you, the name of that stupid tool was bothering me. I couldn’t for the life of me remember it. If you’ve got one I could borrow, that would be great. I have no idea why mine wasn’t in with the rest of the spare tyre stuff in my boot.”

He grunted an assent and walked over to the tray of his truck, which was currently covered with a large waterproof tarp. Evie followed him and stopped beside her ruined tyre. The Mabari stood beside Evie, looking at her quizzically, but without hostility.

“You are so gorgeous,” Evie crooned to the dog, “aren’t you a lovely Mabari, yes you are.”

“That’s Bluebell,” said the man over his shoulder as he worked on pulling out a toolbox from where it was wedged under the tarp and between sacks of flour, of all things. His slicked back hair was starting to curl into ringlets as it got wet and he stopped to run a hand through it, grumbling slightly.

“Nice to meet you Bluebell, I like your bandana.” Evie patted the Mabari’s head. The dog gave a happy bark and leaned against Evie, almost causing her to fall over since Bluebell’s back was above her waist. “I’m Evie,” she said, in a louder voice.

The man turned back around, holding a wheel brace. “I’m Cullen, pleased to meet you,” he said, handing it to her. “Do you need me to change that tyre for you?”

Evie stuck one end of the wrench over one of the lugs on the tyre and pushed down on it. Naturally it didn’t budge. Evie swore under her breath. “No thank you,” she said aloud, “I’ve got this.”

He hummed agreement with sceptical politeness. Bluebell sat down, gave a small whine and watched Evie work.

“Come on, you poxy thing,” Evie muttered to the tyre, “work with me here.”

She put all her weight on the wrench and it finally started to move the nut.

“You should have loosened the bolts before you jacked up the car,” the man, Cullen, said helpfully.

Evie bared her teeth in what might pass as a smile if Cullen didn’t look too closely. “Yes, thanks for the advice.”

“I’ve changed plenty of tyres, it would not be a bother to do that for you.”

“I’m fine, really,” said Evie through gritted teeth.

He stared at her, then walked over to his cab and retrieved an umbrella. He wordlessly opened it and held it over her head as she worked on the tyre.

“Ah. Well, thanks for that,” Evie said awkwardly, glancing upwards at it. She used the opportunity to strip off her soggy jersey, which smelled like damp wool and wet Mabari. Evie threw the jersey on the hood of her car and resumed her work on the tyre with Cullen patiently holding the umbrella so she didn’t get any wetter.

After undoing doing all the wheel nuts and sliding off the old tyre Evie stood up and stretched her back. She noticed Cullen’s gaze drift downwards then jerk back up to her face, as his cheeks and ears turned bright red. Evie frowned and glanced down at herself.

_Oh awesome. And there’s my pink bra showing through my pale blue blouse that was also wet. Because that’s how my day is going, pretty much flashing the first person I meet in this area._

She cleared her throat and pulled the wet material away from her skin. “Sorry,” she muttered to Cullen, “that… ah, that wasn’t intentional. Or some weird seduction attempt aimed at guys who let me use their wrenches.”

 _Good one Evie, way to make the situation even more awkward_.

Cullen snorted a laugh. “It’s not your fault. You must buy a rain jacket if you are going to spend any time in this area, it rains a great deal in the forest.”

Evie laughed weakly. “Heh. Yeah, good idea.” She pulled the clinging wet fabric away from her front again and went to retrieve her spare tyre. Cullen still followed her with the umbrella.

She heaved the new tyre onto the now free studs and used the wheel brace to reattach the lugs. Bluebell came to sit under the umbrella with her while she did so.

“Sorry about Bluebell,” said Cullen. “She likes meeting new people.”

“That’s okay,” Evie said, surreptitiously pulling the fabric away from her skin again. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real Mabari, I’ve only seen photos. Where did you get her?”

Cullen scratched Bluebell’s ears with his free hand. “Someone abandoned her in Val Royeaux. I was there on business and I rescued her. Many people only see the prestige in owning such a dog, but they don’t see the work it takes to keep them entertained and exercised.”

“I can imagine. Do you live in Haven? I imagine the forest would be a wonderful place for a dog to explore, lots of interesting smells to uncover.”

“Yes, I do, I run the bakery there. Is your accent Free Marches? Are you on holiday here?”

Evie grunted as she tightened a stubborn lug. “I’m moving to Haven, actually. That’s why my car is full of boxes. I’ve driven from Ostwick.”

“You’re moving to Haven voluntarily?” he said, sounding startled, then paused. “What I mean to say is, Haven is lovely, it’s just very… remote. And small. Compared to Ostwick.”

Evie tightened the final lug, then stood up and patted Bluebell. “My Aunt had a house there, I bought it off her. Seemed as good a place as any for a new start.” She smiled and handed Cullen the wheel brace. “Thank you for letting me use this. I couldn’t believe my bad luck so close to the end of my journey.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, then looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, ah, I have a spare t-shirt and rain poncho in my truck you could borrow. I keep a set of gym clothes in there for when Bluebell and I go for a run.”

“Oh, I…”

“They are clean,” Cullen said hurriedly, “clean gym clothes. It would be a shame for you to catch a chill on your first day in your new home.”

Pride would have kept Evie in her wet, cold shirt but something about the way he was offering made her nod and hum an agreement. “Alright, thank you. I’d thought about trying to find spare clothes but couldn’t face unpacking my boxes in the car.”

Cullen handed her the umbrella, which Evie held over herself and Bluebell as she knelt down to lower the jack and set the car properly back on the ground.  As she did that, she could see Cullen fossicking around in the cab of his truck, finally retrieving a knapsack. He re-joined them and dug around in his bag, handing her a large t-shirt and a small plastic bag with ‘Emergency rain poncho’ printed on it.

“They’ll be much too big, but at least they will keep you dry.”

Evie held them away from her body so they didn’t touch her wet shirt. “Where can I return them to? You said you ran the bakery in town?”

“Ah yes, Dough Business.” Cullen looked proud. “It’s the only bakery in town so you can’t miss us.”

“Dough Business eh?,” Evie distracted herself from giggling at the name by patting Bluebell. “I’ll drop them back off there. Thank you.”

“You’re, um, welcome. Oh, I can take your old tyre off your hands too, there’s room in my truck and I’m happy to arrange appropriate disposal of it.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I forgot about the old tyre. I mean, yes, thank you, that would be amazing.”

She stood by her car, waving whilst Cullen loaded the burst tyre into his truck and he and Bluebell drove off towards Haven.

_Whelp, at least one person here will think I’m a total dork. And oh shit I’ve also stolen his umbrella._

Evie looked up at the umbrella she was still holding and sighed. She retrieved her sodden jersey and tools and shoved them into a gap in front of the boxes on the passenger seat. She shimmied into the driver’s seat and hastily stripped her wet top and bra off.

_Now would be the time another local shows up, as I’m sitting here with my tits out in all their glory._

She huffed a laugh and slipped Cullen’s spare t-shirt over her head. It was huge on her, but it was comfortable and dry. She held it out from her front and looked down to read the words on it. They said ‘Bianca’s Bar: Best Booze in Haven’ with a line drawing of a rustic looking tavern printed underneath.

“So Haven at least has a bakery and a pub, what more does a girl need?” she muttered as she started the engine and pulled back onto the road.

Thirty uneventful minutes later Evie checked the map app on her phone, which now had mobile reception. This was definitely the place, Five Greenaway Road, Haven. She pulled up outside the gate, then got out of the car to open it, eyeing the overgrown driveway dubiously.

_I need to get the car close to the house. Bugger carrying the boxes all the way down the drive. I’m going to be walking everywhere and not using the car anyway, I’ll need to park it as undercover as I can get it._

She got back into the car and cautiously drove a short distance down the drive, pausing to get out again and shut the gate behind her. The driveway was long and surrounded with forest on both sides, as was the house when she reached it.

 _House. Calling it a house is a stretch. More like a fancy shed_.

Aunt Roberta had described her holiday home as a country retreat that just needed a little TLC. The photos had looked nice, a cosy little cabin in the middle of a friendly woods, close to the town but still private. Evie had happily given her savings to her Aunt to purchase the property off her. The reality was somewhat damper, darker and looked in need of a bulldozer rather than love.

_All my money went into buying this house. I guess the land is where most of the value is, but by the Maker I hope it’s nicer on the inside._

She parked right outside the front door and got out of the car again, pausing to pull on the rain poncho. The cabin was made mostly of unpainted wood, a little more than one storey with a window that was presumably for a small attic above the doorway. The roof was heavily sloped and covered with low ferns, of all things. There was a small porch roof above the green painted front door and Evie stood under it, fumbling in her handbag for the house keys. Rain dripped off the eaves, and she shivered, hugging herself with her free arm. The cold cut through the thin t-shirt and rain poncho.

She thought briefly of that local man, Cullen, and how he held an umbrella above her head and loaned her his spare clothes.

_Maybe that’s a small-town thing? Chivalry and all of that._

Finally recalling she was no longer in the city, Evie paused as she withdrew the keys from her bag and had a better look around at the forest that surrounded her.

It was misty with the rain and the forest looked thick, evergreen trees tall and straight with ferns covering the forest floor underneath them. To her city born and raised eyes it felt like there were no other souls for a million miles around. There were no visible neighbours to see in her windows or her backyard, but there was no one to see she was okay, either.

 _Shit, I didn’t think about safety. I could get tragically serial-killered and no one would find my body for months. There is wanting to be alone and have a new start, and there is being all alone in a forest and just inviting trouble_.

Logically Evie knew Haven was just a twenty-minute walk away, and that there were paths through the woods. She’d looked at the tourist brochures for the area and hiking through these forests at the foot of the Frostbacks was very popular.

She cast a last, dubious, look at her surroundings and opened the door to the cabin. Her first impression of the inside was more favourable than the outside because at least it wasn’t quite as damp as she expected. Aunt Roberta had included her furniture in the house purchase and the old wingback chairs that were placed beside the cast iron freestanding fireplace didn’t seem to be actively mouldy. There were stairs up to the attic room, and underneath those was a small table and two wooden chairs. There was a kitchen off to the side, with a cast-iron stove and wooden drawers.

 _It’s like the forest has had a hard night out at Bianca’s Bar, staggered home in a drunken haze then vomited timber all over the bloody cabin and that’s the décor_.

Evie had never seen so many wooden furnishings in one place. Everything was timber, except for the wingback chairs and cast-iron items. She had a thought and looked up at the ceiling.

 _No ceiling lights, no plastic. No light switches. There’s no electricity here. Those things on the wall must be oil lamps_.

She sat heavily in one of the soft chairs, giving herself a coughing fit when a cloud of dust arose when she sat.

 _Well,_ she thought when the dust had cleared, _this will certainly be an adventure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a few terms that my US readers are unfamiliar with because it turns out (thanks google) you use different terms for tyre related matters than we do in Australia. Also you call them 'tires'. After I even called Cullen's vehicle a 'pickup truck' instead of a 'ute', just for you guys. Anyway, I hope it still made sense!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of a problematic past relationship and gaslighting. 
> 
> This fic is going to be 90% light in tone, but both Evie and Cullen have baggage from their pasts which will get mentioned from time to time. I'll put a warning if there is any content I think might upset people.

Evie awoke in the nest of bedding she’d assembled on the floor. She looked to her side and was pleased to note the fire was still smouldering.

 _Well now. Operation Don’t Freeze To Death In The Night was a clear success_.

She stretched then shivered as an arm came free of her blanket cocoon. She’d counted finding enough dry bedding with which to make a human burrito in front of the fire to be an excellent start to her new life. Sleeping on the bare floorboards, not so much. She looked up to the ceiling where the attic bedroom sat, without a bed.

_Why Aunt Roberta didn’t tell me this place was bedless, I don’t know. I’d have bought a bed roll or something to sleep on._

Evie sat up, keeping as much as herself covered by blankets as was humanly possible. She snaked an arm out again, this time to retrieve a dry log from the basket beside the fire and pop it inside the wood burner. This done she looked around the cabin. Four boxes and two bags sat piled neatly in the kitchen, the physical remains of her life in Ostwick. She’d stuffed two of the boxes full of books, her inheritance from her beloved Grandmother. The wet clothing and blanket had been slung over the backs of the chairs and edges of the table, and they looked dryer than yesterday. Evie had even found a dry jersey in a bag and was wearing it over the top of her borrowed t-shirt.

 _I wonder when Cullen the Bakery Guy wants his stuff back? It’ll have to be after I locate a laundromat, unless there is a hidden washing machine outside the house somewhere_.

“Screw the washing,” Evie said aloud, her voice sounding startlingly loud in the profound silence, “my kingdom for a hot shower and a bathroom with a heater.”

She scowled in the direction of the small bathroom attached to the side of the house. A clawfoot tub sat in there, taking up most of the space, with a toilet and a tiny sink shoved against one wall.

“At least there is indoor plumbing, even if the water is bloody cold,” she muttered.

_And now I’m talking to myself. Becoming the local Crazy Lady only took a day. That’s impressive._

“Well if I’m going to be crazy, may as well own it. Okay, self, let’s find a pot and see if we can heat water on top of the fire. Because bugger trying to work out what is going on with the oven, and how it works with no power.”

Evie shed her blankets, then located a large copper pot in one of the kitchen cupboards, and with some coaxing and name calling got the kitchen taps working and producing water that wasn’t brown. She set the pot of water on the flat top of the wood burner, then unpacked the bag of food she’d bought in Ostwick. Her final pay cheque had been all she had left after her house purchase, so it was important to stretch it as far as possible. She’d bought large bags of rice and dried chickpeas, figuring they’d keep her going until she got a new job, along with a few cheap cans of soup, teabags and some fruit and vegetables that were rapidly losing their freshness.

She had not wanted to take any of the joint items from the apartment she’d shared with Ray. Even their plates and cutlery held too many bad memories. Luckily it seemed there were enough odds and ends in this kitchen that she wouldn’t have to buy anything to eat off or drink out of. There was a narrow pantry cupboard, so Evie gave it a wipe down and stacked her food supplies in there.

The pot was boiling so she wrapped her hand in a towel and pulled it off the heat. She located a mug in a cupboard, dunked it in the water and popped a teabag in.

_No milk, but at least this will moderately caffeinate me before I explore the town._

She sat in one of the wingback chairs and rewrapped herself with bedding, leaving one arm free holding the mug. The quiet was glorious, she decided. Ray had always had the radio blaring on stations with all the latest pop songs and shouty DJs. She’d never liked the constant and inescapable noise, but she’d bowed to his wishes in that, as in most things. Contempt for her own actions filled Evie with equal parts with rage and sorrow. How could a well-educated, successful, modern woman let a man run roughshod over her like that? She was supposed to be strong, how could she let him treat her in such a controlling way? It had started so innocuously, letting him always control the remote for the TV because it wasn’t worth the argument to choose the channel herself. Eating the foods he liked, decorating their apartment the way he approved of, going places he enjoyed, because anything else always resulted in him sulking and ignoring her for days. She hadn’t even noticed when he started to question her memory. Things she remembered him saying, actions she recalled him doing he would deny. She clearly recalled him doing and saying those things, but he would swear black and blue they hadn’t happened, until she questioned her own memories, her own thoughts, her own sanity. The worst thing was, she didn’t even know if she would have left him had she not discovered the romantic messages between him and a co-worker, detailing their affair.

 _He can take a flying leap into the Fade. Regardless of the motivation I’m free of the bastard now,_ she thought and gave herself a toast with her tea mug. _At least I can take some credit for cutting him out of my life._

Tea drunk, she plugged the sink and added cold water to it, topping it off with the contents of the pot to take the chill off. It was warm enough in the cabin now to strip, so she did so and gave her body a cursory wash with a facecloth before she bent over the sink and tipped cups of water over her shoulder length reddish brown hair, washing it with a minimum of shampoo and attempting to rinse it out properly.

_I must find a better way than this to clean my hair. I’m not convinced all the shampoo washed out. I should buy dry shampoo. Or I could make a statement and shave it all off. Ray always liked my hair, so it would be satisfying to get rid of it._

She huffed a laugh, then quickly dried herself and dug clean clothes out of a bag. Properly attired she packed a knapsack with her handbag, an apple and her phone charger and popped in two copies of her resume in case she got lucky on this first day.

It had stopped raining overnight and was mildly chilly but clear outside. Evie stopped to the side of her house and had a good look around the yard for the first time. She’d been focusing on unpacking the car and warming herself up inside the cabin yesterday. There was a small shed, partially filled with firewood, behind the house and a large gas cylinder near the kitchen.

_That must be for the oven. Well that’s one problem solved. If there is still gas in the cylinder._

There was a square patch in the clearing behind the house, surrounded by a low fence. It looked to Evie’s untrained eye like an overgrown vegetable garden. A rotting scarecrow loomed over it all.

_Aunt Roberta never seemed like the gardening type. Though she was Grandma’s daughter and among Grandma’s books are some gardening manuals from when she was a young woman living in Ferelden._

Planting a garden would take money though, and she needed to save what money she had left in case her food ran out before she could get a job.

Evie walked back to where she’d parked her car beside the cabin and eyed the trail through the woods. From Aunt Roberta’s description, it apparently led into Haven proper. It wasn’t misty like yesterday, but the trees were very tall and thick and the ferns seemed to cover the entire ground, leaving only the thinnest of paths. Wind gusted through, making the trees lean towards each other like they were talking about her.

_No it’s fine, it’s not a dark murdery tunnel of doom, it’s simply a nice walk through the forest._

Nearby a bird screeched. Evie jumped and gave a little shriek.

“Okay, now you’re being a coward, Evelyn Trevelyan,” she said aloud, “just go along the path in the creepy ass forest and you’ll be in Haven. There will be people and shops and I can have a nice walk around my new home. This is my new life. I am now a strong independent woman free of her past poor choices and the future awaits.”

She was unsure if she believed her own pep talk, but she set off anyway. The woods were a little gloomy but less oppressive and awful than they looked from her cabin. If it were sunny, the screaming birds swooping through the canopy might even be picturesque rather than looking like little feathered harbingers of doom.

Haven itself looked much as she expected. Surrounded on three sides by mountains and forest, the town was on a patch of flat land adjoining a lake. There was a single main street along the lake front where the bulk of the shops were situated, with side streets containing houses. Evie walked through the park where she had come out and found herself down one end of the main street. The town council buildings were in front of her, with an attached wing labelled ‘Library and Information Centre.’

 _Perfect. Librarians know everything, I can ask about town facilities there_.

The library was a modern building, light and airy on the inside. Evie had been expecting more timber, so seeing something different was a relief. A handsome, olive skinned man with an impressive moustache sat at the reference desk drinking from a takeaway cup with ‘Dough Business’ printed on the side. He looked up and smiled cheerfully at her as she approached.

“Hello and welcome to the Haven Library, home of Ferelden’s largest collection of brochures about trees.”

Evie laughed. “Thanks, but I’ll take a raincheck on the tree brochures. I was wondering if you have a tourist map with the town facilities? I moved here yesterday, and I thought a tourist map would be a good way to suss out where everything was.”

The librarian raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. “You moved here yesterday? Might you be the young lady who had tyre troubles on the road out of town?”

“Maker’s bal… breath. I knew gossip was supposed to move fast around small towns but that is impressive. Yes, that was me. The bloke that owns the local bakery, Cullen, stopped and helped me out.”

“Our gossip network is less remarkable than what you are thinking, my dear. My beloved hulking brute of a husband is Cullen’s assistant. Bull is something of a cupcake savant.” He sat forward and held out his hand for Evie to shake. “I’m Dorian. Dorian Pavus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Evie grasped his hand. “I’m Evie Trevelyan, it’s nice to meet you too.”

Dorian leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands together, regarding her over his fingertips. “Now what facilities might you be in need of in our humble town?”

“I needed an overview to see what’s here. I’m looking for a job. And shower facilities if possible.” Evie grimaced and tucked her regrettably lank hair behind her ears. “A power point before my phone dies completely. Oh, and a laundromat. Cullen loaned me a top to wear I need to wash and return.”

Dorian’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. “You had an actual conversation with the esteemed Mr Cullen Rutherford in which he spoke and offered you human clothing?”

“Yes? Ah, yes, we had a perfectly nice conversation. He held an umbrella over my head, it was very kind of him.” Evie cleared her throat and blushed as she remembered her transparent top.

“Oh my dear, this I need to hear more about.” Dorian turned around and called over his shoulder, “Josephine? Josie, I’m taking a delectable young woman whom I just met out for a drink. I need you to cover the desk, my love.”

An Antivan accent drifted out from the office behind Dorian. “That’s fine, Dor. You can bring me back a cupcake to make up for it.”

“Perfect!” Dorian stood up and grinned at Evie. “Who needs a map when you can have a personal tour of Haven from the handsomest man in town?”

Evie grinned back at him. “Perfect,” she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian stopped outside a brown brick building that had solid wooden tables and chairs neatly arrayed next to the street. Old wine barrels filled with bright orange marigolds separated the furniture from the footpath. “Ahh, here we are, Bianca’s Bar. Best booze in Haven, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Evie, thinking of the slogan on the front of Cullen’s t-shirt.

“The owner, Varric, is a friend. He’s a good person for you to meet, he knows everyone in town. He’s probably not here though, he writes during the mornings and leaves Cole in charge of the place.”

The interior of the tavern was lit by neon lights shaped to spell the names of various drink brands. They lined the top of the walls, bouncing bright reflections off the varnished timber roof. A chandelier hung above a pool table and there was a large open fireplace, though it was unlit. There was a low hum of noise from various tables, which seemed to be filled with people dressed for hiking who were poring over some large maps. A pale young man stood behind the bar, wearing a cream-coloured slouch beanie over his light blonde hair and a beige and brown check shirt.

“Please, let me buy you a drink,” said Dorian, “I’m so thrilled to meet the newest resident of our little haven of lost souls. It’s so seldom we get new permanent residents.”

Evie raised her eyebrows at his description of the town, but said “That would be kind, thank you. I’ll buy the next round.”

Dorian grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s a date!”

He cast a level look at the pallid man behind the bar, who was staring at something in the middle distance. “I’ll introduce you to Cole. He bartends during the day like I mentioned before, but he is a little… unusual. Please, do take whatever he says with a large grain of salt, and don’t try to order a drink. He’ll give you whatever drink he thinks you need.”

“He’ll just… randomly make me a drink of his choosing?” Evie looked uneasily at Cole.

Dorian smoothed his moustache. “Trust me, he’s really rather good. I’ve never been disappointed.” He paused. “Well, not very disappointed anyway. Shall we proceed?” He motioned Evie forward.

Cole regarded her with watery blue eyes as they moved to stand beside the bar.

“Good morning Cole. This is Evie, we’ve come for a quick mid-morning drink on this fine day.”

Evie waved awkwardly. “Hi Cole, it’s nice to meet you.”

Cole tilted his head to the side as he peered intently at Evie. “You are new here. Cold house, warm hearts, desperate for change but afraid to start.”

He spun on his heels and walked to the end of the bar, bending down to retrieve a variety of ingredients from a fridge.

Evie gave a small frown in his direction. “He’s a poet? That sounded poetish.”

Dorian followed her gaze. “He doesn’t usually rhyme. I’m impressed, he must be expanding his repertoire.”

Cole assembled a collection of ingredients on the counter along the wall and turned his back on Dorian and Evie as they leaned on the bar and watched him work. After a minute or so he turned around holding a long glass filled with a pink beverage. He had artfully placed two slices of lemon within a cluster of bobbing ice cubes and the drink boasted a pink and white candy stripe straw.

Evie put her hand over her mouth and laughed. “Oh Maker, a pink lemonade. My brother and I used to have these when we’d visit our Aunt every school holidays. That’s amazing. I haven’t had one of these in years, thank you Cole.” She looked at Dorian. “I bought my new house off of Aunt Roberta. Apart from my brother Max she’s my favourite family member.”

Cole smiled benignly at Evie. “She offered to give you the house, but you needed something that was properly yours, that you worked for.”

Evie frowned in surprise. “Okay yes that’s… an unusual insight you have there.”

Cole kept smiling, then abruptly walked away.

“Was he cold reading me?” Evie whispered to Dorian. “Because that was a little eerie.”

“I’m not sure how he does it,” Dorian whispered back. “He’s got an impressive gift for understanding people. Communicating, not so much. Understanding, right on the money.”

Cole returned holding a large glass filled with ice and a clear, carbonated liquid. A purple cocktail umbrella was perched jauntily on top.

Dorian handed Cole some money then took a sip of his drink and made a face. “Dear me. You didn’t have any of Varric’s bold, full bodied Tevinter shiraz available?”

Cole gazed at Dorian unblinkingly and handed him his change.

Dorian gave a theatrical sigh. “Fine, soda water it is. I am technically at work I suppose. Shouldn’t be drinking on the job.”

_He’d be surprised if he worked as an underwriter_ , Evie thought wryly. _It’s basically an obligation that you drink heavily at work functions. Work lunches. When thinking about work. My poor liver was never as happy as when I quit that job._

Coles was patting Dorian’s hand. “You are valued, and you are loved.”

Dorian blinked rapidly. “I… thank you Cole.”

Cole turned away and started organising the bottle of spirits behind him, humming a faint tune.

Dorian and Evie made their way to sit at a table in a corner of the room, beside a large jukebox that was playing classical music, of all things.

“Well. That’s always an experience.” Dorian cleared his throat and swallowed a few times. “Cheers.” He held up his glass and Evie clinked hers against it. “Here’s to new friendships.”

“New friendships and new beginnings,” said Evie.

Dorian toyed with the bright purple umbrella from his drink. “So, tell me, what kind of employment are you looking for?”

Evie considered her words. “Well, I worked as an insurance underwriter in Ostwick and to be honest, I’m burned out. I moved here to get away from the corporate world and the busy city. And my bloody awful ex-boyfriend. I’m willing to try my hand at anything so long as it’s not enormously stressful.”

Dorian tapped his lips with his finger. “You have my sympathies, I know a thing or two about bloody awful ex-boyfriends.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m aware of a few local shops looking to hire casual staff. Do you have any bakery experience?”

“I worked part-time at a café when I was at Uni,” Evie said, swirling the delightfully pink drink around her glass.

“Well, sounds promising. I know the bakery is desperately short staffed, so that’s one option. I heard Solas was also looking for someone to help out at his nursery, so depending on your desire to talk to plants that’s another option.”

“Ohh, they both sound good. A nice change of pace.”

Dorian took a long drink of his water. “There are always the Green Wardens, though no one outside of their order really knows how their recruitment process works. They have a local chapter deep in the bowels of the forest, I’ve met a few of their members. Warden Alistair has been in to the library recently to research some of our historical treatises on local forest management. A charming fellow. He was most enthusiastic about our tree brochures.”

“I’ve heard of the Green Wardens, aren’t they the people pledged to protect the remaining wild areas of Thedas? Always sounded a bit cult-like to me, all secret initiations and mystery.”

Dorian nodded, pursing his lips. “They are a branch of the government, though why it’s necessary for them to be so reclusive is beyond me.”

“Yeah, I think I need a nice simple job in town. Bakery or garden centre employee sounds less stressful than Wildlife Warrior.”

“Alright my dear. Let’s finish this drink, and then I’ll show you where the laundromat is. I need to head back to work soonish, but we can call in to the bakery. At the very least I need a cake to take back for my fellow Librarian.”

 

***

 

Dorian gave Evie a quick visual overview of Haven’s amenities. There wasn’t much to see compared to Ostwick, though Dorian seemed proud of the little town.

_Thank the Maker there is a laundromat. I don’t fancy hand washing my clothing or having to wait until I can afford a manual washing machine from a camping supplies place._

They stopped outside a blue building with ‘Dough Business’ emblazoned in bold lettering across the awnings and window glass. There was a printed ‘Help Wanted’ sign tacked up beside the door.

“Ahh Dough Business,” said Dorian, making a face. “I swear that name makes me die a little itty bit inside every time I hear it. There are so many brilliant potential bakery names, and Cullen chose what must be the worst.”

“Well, it’s certainly memorable,” said Evie diplomatically. “I’m impressed they have an actual printed help wanted sign. That’s so old school. Did they advertise that job online at all or are they committed to a pre-internet aesthetic?”

“Cullen is something of a technophobe, I’m afraid. He has limited his entire social media presence to posting some very occasional photos of his Mabari.”

“Oh, Bluebell. We met, she was a lovely doggo.” Evie ginned at the memory.

Dorian gave an amused snort. “He does dote on the massive beast. I can’t judge, I married Bull.” He pushed open the door, causing a bell positioned above the door to ring.

The public area of the bakery was currently empty, the tables and chairs all arranged neatly with a vase sporting a single sunflower on each one. Everything was spotlessly clean. As Evie looked around, she realised the room consisted of the same level of wooden furnishings and décor as her cabin.

_I’m naming this style Timber Plus Plus. Or maybe Wood Vomit. Forest Chic?_

Sturdy shelving covered the back wall, and carefully labelled wicker baskets held a cornucopia of different bread loaves. There were wooden glass-fronted cabinets adjoining the counter, the right-hand side filled with an array of bread rolls, sandwiches, and cold pies. There was a large glass bowl filled with cinnamon buns displayed prominently on top. To the left of the till was an identical cabinet, chock full of tiny cakes, all brightly coloured and decorated with a variety of rainbow sweets, glittery sprinkles and dainty piped icing.

“I was expecting something smaller,” said Evie, looking around in awe. “They really sell this much food each day?”

“All of this and more. Cullen’s sourdough is well known in this part of Ferelden. The bakery is usually much busier. Any bread leftover at the end of each day they freeze and send to a homeless shelter in Redcliffe once a week.”

A very large qunari man with an eyepatch poked his head and shoulders out of the archway in the middle of the back wall, behind the counter. Evie could see the arch led to the kitchen. “Kadan!” the man said cheerfully, “I have just the thing for you to try!”

“We’ve talked about that, Bull,” Dorian said airily in reply, “not anywhere quite this public.”

“Hah! No look, I invented a new type of cupcake.”

There was a pause as the big man ducked out of sight, then he came out of the kitchen holding a tray of delicate pink cupcakes. He placed them on the counter in front of Dorian and held out his hand for Evie to shake.

“The Iron Bull, pleased to meet you.” Evie opened her mouth to introduce herself but halted as Bull held up his finger to stop her. “And you are Evie, the young woman with the tyre problem from yesterday.”

Evie gave him a quizzical look. “Evie Trevelyan. Do you two know everything about every person who moves here?”

Bull grinned. “Cullen mentioned you. Did he really stop to help you and have a conversation?”

“She said he did,” Dorian interjected. “She said they had a perfectly unremarkable chat.”

Bull nodded slowly. “Wow.”

Evie furrowed her brow while she considered a polite way to ask what was wrong with Cullen that this behaviour was unusual, but Bull looked at her speculatively, then gathered up one of the tiny cakes in his huge hand and brandished it at her and Dorian.

“Nugcakes, I call them. Vanilla and strawberry cupcakes, but with little marshmallow nug faces on them. Aren’t they wild?”

His enthusiasm was charming. “They are super cute,” Evie said. “I like the little ears.”

Bull beamed with pride. “These little beauties are experimental, so you guys can be my official testers. Can I get you a coffee? On the house.”

_Okay, that’s it. I officially like this town and its inhabitants. I don’t even care right now that my new house doesn’t have electricity._

“Oh, thank you,” Evie said aloud. “I’ll just have a flat white please. No sugar.”

Bull winked his one eye at his husband. “And a short black for my favourite ‘Vint.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Oh you’ve finally decided your husband is your favourite now? Hold the phones! I’m calling Cremisius to let him know.”

“Yeah, okay, second favourite ‘Vint. Krem will always be the best of you,” Bull said over his shoulder as he turned towards the espresso machine.

Dorian gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s true, I know. Before I forget, is there a spare cake for Josie? I need to pay her back for this long and very early lunch break of mine.”

“Sure. I’ll chuck in an extra for her to take home for Leliana too.”

They idly chatted as they watched Bull making the drinks, as they had done with Cole earlier. The qunari put everything on a tray and they all sat down at a table.

Dorian inhaled the steam from his coffee, making a contented face as he did so. “Evie here is looking for employment.” He shot Bull a meaningful look.

Bull sat back in his chair, which creaked alarmingly. “Got any bakery experience?”

“Café experience from a few years ago,” said Evie, swirling a teaspoon in her drink. “I can make coffees, work a till, remember orders, be nice to angry customers.”

Bull took a large bite of cupcake and regarded her, chewing slowly. “You might just fit the bill,” he said, his voice indistinct from the cake. He paused and swallowed. “Cullen will need to approve, but I can’t imagine there will be a problem.”

“Where is our favourite uptight vision of male beauty?” Dorian said, looking towards the kitchen.

“Upstairs.” Bull jabbed a thumb upwards. “He’s got some new small business software he’s trying to wrangle for the accounts. I’m surprised we can’t hear him shouting at his computer.”

“Cullen left you alone with Henrietta? Colour me impressed. He normally worries you’ll go ahead and pound her after a feeding, rather than the gentle treatment she’s accustomed to,” said Dorian, before taking a sip of his coffee. “Maybe he’s starting to loosen up.”

“He fed her before he went upstairs, just after Blackwall picked Bluebell up for the day. Henrietta’s looking big, he needs to be tougher about cutting her down a bit.”

Dorian nodded thoughtfully and hummed an agreement. “That reminds me, what cake did you make Blackwall today?”

Bull gave him a big smile. “It was a sort of powdery lilac, and I piped little stars on it with vanilla frosting, in the shape of a ‘B’. I dusted the lot with edible holographic glitter. Thom loves that shit.” Bull sighed happily. “It was epic.”

Dorian patted his arm. “You’re a good man, Amatus.”

Evie blew on her coffee, then took a sip. It was good, Bull clearly knew his way around a coffee bean. “If you guys had any computer issues or need help with social media and all that I could assist. I’m pretty tech savvy. Oh, I did bring a copy of my resume.” She fished one set of papers out of her bag and handed it to Bull.

He skimmed it and then glanced up at her. “Life insurance underwriting? Tough biz. Well paid though. Your wages here would be a comedown after that. Cullen pays pretty well but not close to what you would have earned.”

“I don’t give a shit about the money, in all honesty. I just need enough to live on, and even a minimum adult wage would be that. My move here was a new start away from spending hours a day commuting and working crazy long hours.”

Bull studied her face, then nodded. “I’ll take this up to the boss. Back in a sec.” He went through a door she hadn’t noticed before, to one side of the back wall, and Evie could hear the thumping sound of the big man running upstairs.

Dorian watched his husband leave, a small smile on his face. He took a small bite of the cupcake and looked back at Evie. “He has quite a way with cake,” he said when he’d swallowed his mouthful.

Evie nodded enthusiastically as she took a bite out of hers. “This is amazing. The nug face is cute, but the cake itself is delicious. So light and fluffy.”

After a couple of minutes Bull thumped his way back down the stairs. “The boss is coming to see you. Heads up, he’s grumpy about his computer.”

Cullen followed him down, scowling a little, reading her resume as he walked. “I heard that,” he muttered.

Bull grinned unrepentantly and shrugged a shoulder.

Cullen looked at Evie, then at her resume again. “Miss Trevelyan. Bull tells me you were looking for employment?”

“Evie is fine. And yes, that’s right.”

“Well this all seems acceptable, Mis… erm, Evie. The job entails serving the customers, making coffee, clearing tables, helping in the kitchen.” He looked at her then seemed to lose his train of thought for a small moment. He shook himself then resumed speaking. “I’ll need you to start around five thirty am Thursday through Monday to assist in making sandwiches as well as bread rolls and preparing the displays. Do you have any home baking experience?”

Evie nodded, remembering the lovely kitchen in the apartment she had shared with Ray with a pang of regret. “I’ve made plenty of birthday cakes for friends and family, if that’s what you mean. I can make muffins, scones, cookies, apple pie, those kinds of things.”

“Alright, I’ll get Krem to show you how we do some basic baking when you have time in the mornings. That ensures you can be a backup for him.”

Evie clasped her hands in front of her chest in excitement. “That sounds really fun.”

“I see you’ve listed the contact information for your references, so I’ll give them a call after we finish here.” He squinted his eyes a little at the paper, like reading was giving him a headache.

“They are my bosses from my last two jobs. Both in Insurance, but they can reassure you that I work hard and am not a thief or a serial killer.” She gave Cullen a bright smile.

He blinked in response. “Um. Yes, alright.”

Dorian snorted with amusement which he tried unsuccessfully to hide behind his espresso cup. Bull looked between her and Cullen with a small smile.

“Assuming everything is above board with your references, you can start tomorrow.”

Evie stood up to shake his hand. “Wonderful, thank you.”

Cullen clasped her hand and gave her a nod, then turned and stalked back up the stairs.

Dorian smiled at Evie. “There you go my dear, that was easy. It’s only your first day here and you have new friends and a new job. Welcome to Haven!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Like Evie’s Adventures In Tyre Changing in ch1, the terms in this chapter for food and drink are all what are local for me living in Australia. This also means employment conditions are what I’m familiar with, so Evie would earn enough to live in a country town and there is no tipping system.


	4. Chapter 4

“I am trying to enter the value, it’s you that won’t accept it,” Cullen muttered to his computer, which was making an unhappy error noise.

This was supposed to be the best financial system available for small businesses, taking care of taxes, bills, and the wages for Bull and Krem. He was unconvinced that entering endless details on the computer only for the infernal thing to give his input an error was better than his previous system of manual bank deposits and tiny bits of notepaper with figures scrawled on them.

He scowled at the computer and pressed the Enter key again. It refused his input with another angry beep. “If I were brave enough to face the inevitable lecture from Mia, I’d just give you away you know. Maybe to the local kindergarten and let the children have at you. Go back to my old system of financial management. It was a lot less stress.”

He looked up at the shelf above his monitor at his mention of his older sister’s name. Framed holiday photographs of his siblings with their spouses and children all sat there. It was bittersweet, looking at their grinning faces, all part of a happy normality he felt like he could no longer access, or even understand any more. He had decided at a young age he wanted to devote his life to helping people. That’s why he’d joined the special forces, why he’d been so proud to join the ranks of the elite Templars. He knew having a family of his own wasn’t likely to be part of that package, that even relationships might prove too difficult. How right he had been.

He turned around in his desk chair as a series of heavy footsteps on the stairs up to his apartment signalled Bull’s entry into his living space.

“Knock, knock,” the big Qunari said as he arrived at the top of the stairs. “How’s it going, Boss?”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache wasn’t too bad today, barely noticeable unless he thought about it. He suspected if he kept butting heads with technology and dwelling on his personal situation then it might get worse.

“The usual, Bull. Still trying to get this infernal beast to cooperate. Is it still quiet downstairs?”

“There’s someone here who wants to fill the front of house job. Your cute brunette from yesterday.”

Cullen felt his cheeks growing warm. “I did not describe her in that way.”

Bull smirked at him. “You didn’t have to, Boss, you didn’t deny it when I asked.” He walked across the room and handed Cullen a sheet of paper. “Here’s her resume. Says she doesn’t care about the pay cut. She seems genuine.”

Cullen skimmed the woman, Evie’s, resume. She had a degree in History from Ostwick University, had worked part time during her student days at a café then spent her post-university working life as an insurance underwriter.

He stood up. “I’ll come down and talk to her,” he said absently to Bull, “she seemed agreeable enough yesterday, and her café experience will give her a head start here

Bull nodded and headed back down the stairs. “The Boss is coming to see you,” Bull said to whoever was in the public area of the bakery. “Heads up, he’s grumpy about his computer.”

Cullen followed in Bull’s footsteps and scowled at the back of his head. “I heard that.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at his potential new employee.

Evie was a very appealing woman, if he was being completely honest with himself. Even more now than the previous day when she was muddy and bedraggled from the rain. Her shoulder length hair was a warm cinnamon brown, now it was dry, her dark eyes sparkled, and she had a friendly smile.

_You shouldn’t be checking out potential employees like that. It’s unprofessional. And Maker only knows you have enough going on without dragging anyone else down with you. Look what happened last time._

He tore his gaze away from her and looked at the paper he was holding. “Miss Trevelyan. Bull tells me you were looking for employment?”

Her smile widened. “Evie is fine. And yes, that’s right.”

 

***

 

The following morning, Cullen’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his alarm. Nameless horror from his usual nightmare still cling around the edges of his mind as he switched his alarm off and stood up in his still dark bedroom. Bluebell whined from the foot of his bed.

“Don’t be lazy,” he chided her, “We get up at three am every day, it’s not a new routine.”

Cullen flicked a lamp on and blinked blearily, wiping his hand over his face. He automatically dressed in his work clothes, grateful that he wore the same thing, Dough Business shirt and checked chef pants, every day and therefore didn’t have to choose anything. On the bed Bluebell grumbled and rolled over, ostentatiously ignoring him.

“Come on girl,” he said when he was ready, “the bread doesn’t make itself.”

Bluebell whined, but hopped down off his bed.

They made their way downstairs and through the bakery and Cullen let Bluebell out the back door into the small yard he’d fenced off at the rear of the building. As she happily gambolled in the patchy grass, he walked back inside and switched the lights and ovens on inside the kitchen.

“Morning, Henrietta,” Cullen said to the cluster of vintage jars sitting on his bench.

He turned the lights on over the counter in the public area and made himself a flat white, revelling in the soothing routine of grinding the coffee beans, making the espresso and heating the milk. He set it on the bench back in the kitchen so it would cool down while he pulled the rack trolleys of yesterday’s rising sourdough out of the fridge room. This done, he paused beside the series of timers on top of the microwave and set them so he’d get notifications when to do his tasks for the next few hours. He took his cup of coffee onto the outside step and sat down to watch Bluebell while he drank it.

This was his favourite part of the day, the hours before his staff arrived around five thirty. The air was cold and sharp, and his breath misted in front of him, but it was peaceful and calming before the inevitable noise and bustle of the day. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air, driving away the ghosts of his nightmare that still cling on. There was a faint pain behind his eyes, as there generally was in the years since he stopped poisoning his body with lyrium, but by his standards he felt good.

Cullen sat and sipped his coffee, gazing up at the stars still visible in the clear sky. How many times had he done this as a soldier, admiring the two moons and multitudes of stars? Everything up there was still the same, it was he who was different now. It had been worth it, the agony of lyrium withdrawal and the ongoing pain, to be finally clearheaded enough to work through his demons, one day at a time. And it was one day at a time now, he realised. No longer existing from second to second, like it had been when he first left the Templars and chose to stop taking their drug of choice. Eventually it was living minute to minute, then he progressed to hours and now, three years later, he’d made it all the way to one day at a time.

A timer went off inside the kitchen, signalling that it was four am. Time to start the mixing and kneading of today's dough and put yesterday's batch of now fully proved loaves into the oven.

He was starting the bulk proving of today's dough an hour later when Bull and Krem arrived, laughing and joking with each other. Bull started on his first batch batch of cakes while Krem went outside to greet Bluebell before coming back in to start work on the non-sourdough (or as Krem always put it, “normal”) bread.

Cullen was feeding Henrietta when Evie arrived, just before her shift was due to begin at five thirty. She looked tired, but, like yesterday, had a cheerful grin on her face.

“Good morning,” said Evie, brightly.

Cullen managed a small smile back. “Good morning Evie. Well. Here you are. Ahh, you’ve met Bull, and this is Krem,” he said, waving his hand at the other men.

“Hiya,” said Krem, dusting his hands on his apron then walking over to shake Evie’s hand. “Do you want me to show her the ropes, Boss?”

“No, I can do it,” said Cullen, handing Evie one of his spare aprons to wear. “I’ve got loaves cooking and dough proving so I’ve got time to spare for the moment.”

Cullen gave Evie a tour of the kitchen, pointing out the locations of everything she’d need to use. She focused on his lecturing and seemed interested, occasionally asking pertinent questions.

He left his favourite part to last. “And this is Henrietta,” he said, gesturing to the collection.

“Those jars are Henrietta?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Bull mentioned, ah, her, yesterday. Dorian said you didn’t like when he was rough with her…” Her voice trailed off, and she blushed.

Cullen cleared his throat. “She’s my sourdough starter, the first thing I made when I started Dough Business almost three years ago. Sourdough uses an active culture rather than commercial yeast, so I have to maintain it with feedings.” He patted some of the jars. “She comes in different flavours, depending on the flour I feed her with.”

“I see. Well, she’s impressive. I’m sure your bread is amazing.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’m happy with it. Ah, anyway you can help me make a batch of miniature apple pies, and after that we’ll throw sandwiches together. When Krem’s made the gourmet rolls, I’ll show you how we fill some of those too.”

“Sounds great,” Evie said eagerly.

Evie proved herself to be a fast learner, and clearly a morning person because she chatted cheerfully to them all as she worked. Cullen wasn’t one for saying more than he needed to, usually Krem and Bull did most of the talking, but he enjoyed the banter between the others.

An alarm went off at six thirty to signal opening time, and Cullen showed Evie the routine of opening the store.

“We’ve all been taking turns to serve customers, but that’ll be your main job now, and you can keep helping out in the kitchen when it isn’t busy.”

Evie nodded. “I understand.”

“Would you like to make practice coffees for us?”

“Oh yes, good idea. I can get my eye in again, though I think I remember pretty well how to work one of these manual espresso machines.”

Evie’s calm efficiency was a pleasant surprise to Cullen, and she presented himself, Bull and Krem with their orders with her customary enthusiasm.

Bull paused in the middle of expertly applying polka dots to a batch of cupcakes to receive his coffee. “This is pretty good, new girl,” he said, after taking a sip. “You’re already better than Krem.”

“I heard that,” said Krem, throwing a chunk of cinnamon bun dough at Bull. “My talents just lie in areas other than coffee making.”

Cullen looked up as Thom Rainier knocked on the doorframe leading into the kitchen.

“Good morning gentlemen,” Thom said, then he eyes fell on Evie, “and lady.” He held out his hand to shake Evie’s. “Thom Rainier, I’m the local handyman and Bluebell’s babysitter.”

“Nice to meet you Thom, I’m Evie Trevelyan,” Evie said, “I’m the local new girl and bakery employee.”

“Good to meet you.”

There was a low boof from the doorway to outside, where Bluebell sat, wagging her tail and panting happily.

“You know not to come in here,” Cullen said to her. She whined and laid her head on her front paws.

Bull laughed and handed Thom a brown paper bag. “Here you go buddy,” said the Qunari, “today’s cupcake is strawberry pink on raspberry pink, with a dash of sparkling pink to finish everything off.”

Thom took the bag with profuse thanks, then bid them all a good day and went to greet the excited Mabari. “Good morning princess,” Cullen heard him say to Bluebell, “first stop today is the garden centre. You can watch me fix Solas’s plumbing.”

Krem accompanied Evie to serve customers while Cullen got the freshly baked sourdough out of oven.

“Have you had breakfast?” Cullen said to Evie when she came back into the work area again.

“No,” she said, “getting up at five was a little early for me to eat.”

Bull came over to examine the first batch of loaves, wiping his purple icing covered hands on his huge apron. “We usually share one of Cullen’s loaves.” He winked at Evie with his one eye. “Quality control you see.”

Krem came over too, looking keen. “You’re the new girl, do you want the end crust?”

“Only if nobody minds?” Evie said.

Bull handed her a bread knife. “Go for it.”

Cullen went to the cool room to fetch his favourite artisan butter. “This is fresh from one of the local farms,” he said, handing Evie the pot. “We do a butter for bread swap. It’s much nicer than the commercial stuff.”

Evie smeared a generous amount on the hot bread and took a bite, moaning a little and narrowing her eyes in evident pleasure. “This is amazing. It’s so... bready. And the butter is so good.”

Bull helped himself to a generous slice and ate it with gusto. “Cullen’s fresh sourdough is almost better than sex.”

Krem and Evie laughed. “I’m telling Dorian you said that,” said the Tevinter man.

Bull clapped him on the back. “I said almost, Krem-puff. Almost.”

Cullen ate a slice of the bread and butter too, enjoying the comradery. It was the thing in his life that made him the most satisfied, seeing people appreciating the food he’d so carefully crafted, bringing others happiness. He refused to acknowledge the part of himself that had particularly enjoyed seeing Evie’s pleasure and wondered how else he might provoke that reaction.

After breakfast it was time to cut and weigh today’s batch of dough after it’s first proving. Evie seemed to be confident out serving customers, joking and chatting as she served them and made drinks, so Cullen was happy to leave her to it. Despite himself, he liked listening to Evie’s musical laugh as she helped Bull load the cabinets with his beautifully crafted tiny cakes.

“So this is the first day of the rest of your life, huh,” Bull said as they came back into the kitchen.

“I counted yesterday as the first day of my new life,” Evie said, resuming the pile of sandwiches she’d been making. “Today is the first day of earning money to improve that life. First a bed, second connecting my cabin to the electrical grid before I burn it down by using my fire for everything.”

Bull barked a laugh. “You don’t have a bed or electricity?”

Evie shook her head, looking a little rueful. “Nope, just like camping. It’s not as bad as it sounds, once I organise replacement gas bottles I’ll have hot water and a stove.”

Krem shuddered as he piled his cinnamon buns into a basket. “Sounds too much like roughing it for me. I had enough of that crap in the army.”

“Honestly, I really don’t mind, though it was a shock to start with. It’s all mine, and that’s what matters to me. I’m so relieved to get away from…” she paused and grimaced, “everything in Ostwick.”

Cullen focused on the soothing motions of cutting and shaping the dough, letting their voices wash over him as he placed each ball shaped chunk of dough into a proving basket. Bull and Krem rarely bothered him for conversation when he chose not to join in with their chatter, and he appreciated that. There was a companionship in being around their joking and laughing, without the pressure to contribute anything more than he was comfortable with.

Luckily the bakery had a quiet morning, letting Evie settle in to her new role without any apparent trouble.

“Are you sure you are fine without me here?” he said to Bull, after the lunch rush had settled down.

“We managed okay yesterday, didn’t we?” replied the big man, “Henrietta survived, and no one set anything on fire. Go argue with your computer, stop worrying.”

“I’ll be back at one thirty so you can finish.”

“Don’t sweat it, Boss, just do what you need to do. Don’t clock watch.” Bull gave Cullen a friendly slap on the back, sending the human forward a step, then the Qunari went back to join the others in the work space.

Cullen climbed the stairs to his apartment, smiling a little at the laughter coming from the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

Evie finished stacking the chilled cabinet with the food she’d made. It was a Monday, usually quiet and Krem’s rostered day off so there was less work to do than usual. She shut the glass sliding doors at the back of the cabinet and looked around with a small smile on her face. The customers all looked happy, everything was clean and organised at the counter, all was well in the world.

She’d enjoyed her first week at Dough Business. The work was interesting, all the people she’d met had been lovely, and it was such a relief to spend her days doing a variety of tasks instead of being hunched at a desk drowning in stress.

It was still odd not having electricity, but she was settling in to her new home. Cullen didn’t mind that she charged her phone at work, and she loved the balance between socialising all day at work and the blissful quiet of her little cabin in the evening. She’d been rereading some of the books she’d inherited from her Grandma and bought with her. The ones on gardening had inspired her, and she was looking forward to being able to grow her own vegetables.

_I need to find planks and bricks to make a cheap bookcase. That’ll make my cabin really feel like home_ , she thought. _And when I get a bed rather than that nest of blankets on the floor…._

Bull stuck his head out of the kitchen. He was currently in charge of the bakery since Cullen only did the minimum of sourdough preparation and baking on a Monday. “Hey Evie, you got through the sandwich making pretty fast, do you wanna do some cupcake decorating?”

Evie brightened at the thought of learning something new. “Oh my Maker yes, that sounds great.”

“I like to keep Mondays chill, since they are so quiet. You can have fun, I’ll get the counter.”

Evie took one last look around to ensure everyone was happy and left the bell sitting prominently beside the till.

Bull was leaning on his usual bench. “Have you used a piping bag before?”

Evie shook her head as she eyed the accoutrements of cake decorating scattered over Bull’s work space. “No, my style of cake decorating is more like ‘glop the icing on with a knife’. I never went for anything too fancy.”

Bull grinned and cracked his knuckles. “This is gonna be great.” He handed Evie a box with a variety of piping bag nozzles. “Pick which one you want to use, I’d recommend something fairly plain to start with.”

Evie looked at the proffered selection. She chose a simple round one and held it mutely up for Bull to inspect.

“Stylish, nice. Alright, you can do this tray.” He set a large tray of perfectly shaped cupcakes in front of her, then a large bowl of icing. “Have you got any ideas for themes?”

Evie pursed her lips. “Well you’ve got star shaped sprinkles, yeah? What about galaxy themed?”

“Yeah, that’s a timeless classic. Okay, you need to separate your vanilla buttercream icing into four bowls and add about a teaspoon of colour paste into each one. When you’ve done that, I’ll show you how to load the piping bag with multiple colours.”

Bull handed Evie four of the tubs of food colour paste, one each in black, purple, bright blue and bright pink. She coloured the icing as instructed, intrigued by how the paste provided an intense and vibrant colour.

“Okay, I’ll do mine at the same time so you can copy me. You lay a length of clingfilm on the bench and, using your knife, plop a thick sausage-sized line of the buttercream down it.”

Bull demonstrated, blobbing a hefty amount of dark yellow icing down his clingfilm in a neat line. Evie did likewise, though far less neatly.

“Now, do the same with the next colour, beside the first colour, and repeat with the next two colours. I’m going for a cute sunshine motif, but the principle is the same with any colours.”

Soon Evie had four wobbly, very thick snakes of black, purple, pink and blue buttercream on her sheet of clingfilm.

“So, pick up the far end and sort of fold it in half so the two furthest colours are on top of the nearest two colours, so it’ll be the size of big fat salami. After that you trim the extra film off one end and pop that into your piping bag, like this.”

Evie watched intently as Bull did that with his four shades of vibrant yellow icing, then copied him. Her four colours squished together more than Bull’s had, but they were still mostly separate.

“The most basic thing is to plop it on top of the cupcake and give it a swirl, then chuck the sprinkles on while it’s still moist so they stick.” Bull sprinkled a pinch of edible glitter with a flourish. The glittery yellow sprinkles on top of his sunshine yellow cake looked delicious.

Concentrating fiercely, Evie piped a multicoloured galaxy swirl on top of a cupcake, then carefully sprinkled some tiny white stars over the top.

She looked at Bull to find him grinning at her, holding his hand up. “Awesome job, that looks good.”

She gave him a high five then turned back to her decorating. She regarded the next cupcake. “What about a whole bunch of little blobs?”

“Go nuts, do whatever you want. Little blobs, big blobs, swirly blobs. One classic technique is to squeeze out the icing, and blob it back where you’ve just been, making a scallop shape. The galaxy is the limit!”

Evie clasped her hands in front of her chest with excitement. “Maybe some silver edible holographic glitter to complement the little stars over the blobs?”

Bull slapped the bench happily, causing the trays of cupcakes to rattle. “That’s the spirit! You are awesome at this! Show us your best creativity!”

Evie nodded vigorously, already planning more blobs with which to adorn her tiny cakes.

When Cullen arrived in the kitchen shortly afterwards, Bull and Evie were toasting each other with a celebratory cupcake.

“Check these out, Boss,” said Bull, grinning proudly, “Evie is the newest protégé of The Iron Bull’s Cupcake Extravaganza.”

Cullen cast a critical eye over Evie’s efforts. She waited for him to say they were terrible. The silence as he examined them was unbearable, and she felt her happy mood start to evaporate.

“Good job,” he said finally, smiling at her. “Put them at the front.”

Bull clapped the speechless Evie on the back. “Told you they were decent,” he said.

The big Qunari went to help Evie give her cupcakes pride of place in the front of the cabinet.

“Why were you so convinced Cullen would hate your cakes back there?” he said, moving another tray of tiny cakes so Evie could fit hers in.

“What makes you say that?” Evie carefully slid her tray in, making sure none of the sparkly galaxy blobs got smudged.

“I could see your face. You looked like you were expecting him to throw them at you and say they were shit.” Bull gave her a long look. “Cullen wouldn’t, you know. He’s a very nice man.”

Evie sat back and wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I had a stupid ex-boyfriend moment. It’s been three months so I should be over it already, but it’s hard to ditch long-standing habits.”

Bull raised his eyebrows at her as he tidied the trays and shut the cabinet doors. “Wanna talk about it? Dorian says I’m a good listener for such a giant brute.”

Evie huffed a long sigh. “It’s no secret, I have this instinctive reaction when I do things right. I’m always a little surprised when I succeed, because I’m used to my ex, Ray, assuming I wouldn’t. It’s stupid because I know I’m capable, but I have this ridiculous, negative, knee-jerk reaction to success.”

Bull tilted his head to the side. “He sounds like a piece of shit.”

“Ray never said outright I couldn’t do things, he just assumed I didn’t have a basic competence. It sounds weird, but he’d have this exaggerated reaction of surprise if I did something well, like cooking a nice dinner or getting a good performance review at work. It started off with little things, but I got used to it over the years as it got worse. I get kind of a gut reaction about it now.”

Bull leaned against the cabinet and looked contemplative. “That why you didn’t let Cullen help you with the tyre?”

Evie nodded. “I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. I need to get myself back, you know? Feel good about myself again.”

“Yeah, you’re doing the right thing,” Bull said easily. “Kick the jerk to the curb, make a new life.”

Evie snorted, remembering Ray’s face when she caught him sexting one of his colleagues. His denials that he’d done anything wrong, turning into blame on her for his actions. The memory still stung, even three months later, but it was being tempered with relief that his actions gave her the push she needed to leave him.

“Come on.”  Bull patted Evie on the back. “I’ll make you a coffee to celebrate your freedom.”

There was a small rush of customers around the lunch period, so that part of her shift flew by. Bull made her lunch after things had quieted down again, bruschetta with an Antivan white bean soup.

“You’re a man of many talents,” said Evie, taking an appreciative mouthful of the delicious soup.

Bull gave her a toothy grin. “Dorian says much the same.”

Evie smiled back at him. “I’m sure he does.”

“We’re having a barbeque on Saturday night, do you want to come?” Bull leaned on the bench, dipping a crust of the bread into the soup. “Starts at five.”

Evie swallowed her mouthful and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sounds fun! What do you want me to bring?”

“Just yourself. Dorian always buys enough meat to cater an army. Here, we’d better swap numbers.” Bull pulled out a mobile phone from the pocket of his chef pants. It was an intense pink.

Evie looked at the phone and back to Bull, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.

Bull laughed and shrugged. “Dorian wanted me to buy the black one, he said it had more ‘class’.” Bull made air quotes. “But the flamingo pink one? That shit’s awesome. I’ve got a clear sparkly case on order for it. It’s like one of my cupcakes, but in a phone.” He sighed happily and gave his phone a little pat.

“I like it. It’s very you.” Evie blew on her spoonful of soup then ate it, humming in pleasure.

“I’ll tell Dorian that I have another member for the Bull’s Pink Phone Fan Club!”

Evie laughed and saluted him with a chunk of bruschetta. “Absolutely.”

“Bull,” said Cullen abruptly, coming into the kitchen brandishing a sheet of paper. “I’ve got the flyer for Ferelden’s Greatest Bakery here for you. I printed it out.”

Bull took the paper off Cullen and examined it. “You know, Boss, you could forward me the email. This is supposed to be your almost-day-off.”

Cullen grimaced. “Yes, but having it on paper makes it more real, and there are no days off as a small business owner. I have my doubts about this competition, anyway.”

“Hey, you promised,” Bull said, sporting an impressive pout. “No chickening out now!”

“Is this a reality television thing?” said Evie, concerned.

“Not a fan of the genre, huh?” Bull handed Evie the flyer.

“Really not a fan. I don’t fancy being edited to seem like the worst employee imaginable, or that I’m having scandalous affairs with you all!”

“Maker’s breath no,” exclaimed Cullen. “It’s a national competition I foolishly promised Bull and Krem that we’d enter. No reality television involved!”

“Hey, between your world famous in Ferelden sourdough and my outstanding tiny cakes I reckon we have a good shot. What do you think, Evie?”

“A good old-fashioned competition sounds fun.”

“Oh no, not you as well,” Cullen groaned.

Bull rubbed his hands together with glee. “This is gonna be fantastic!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cupcake Icing Tutorials with The Iron Bull is a YouTube series I would watch the hell out of!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI for any vegetarian and vegan readers, there is about half a page worth of discussion about barbeque meat that starts after the line:  
> “This all looks great, Dorian,” she said.  
> And ends at:  
> Cullen looked horrified.  
>  
> 
> Also! Thanks to the Galaxy Cupcake YouTube tutorials I watched as research for the last chapter, my daughter and I ended up making Galaxy Cupcakes for a school fundraiser! We had a blast :D  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159497572@N07/47542315442/in/dateposted-public/)

Evie frowned at the meagre selection of wines in Haven’s small supermarket.

_I need to buy something decent but not too expensive. Not blow my food budget but not get anything undrinkable,_ she thought. _There really isn’t much of a choice here_.

A tall dark-haired human woman wearing a police uniform and a red headed dwarven man in casual clothing stopped beside her. They were carrying a basket with an impressive selection of both high energy protein bars and frozen pizza.

“You must be Evie,” said the man, smiling at her.

Evie huffed a laugh. “Yes, I’m Evie Trevelyan. Is literally everyone here aware of who I am?”

“That’s small towns for you.” He gave her a small nod. “Varric Tethras, at your service. And my lovely wife, Cassandra Pentaghast, one of our diligent local law enforcement officers.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said the woman, in a Nevarran accent.  

They all shook hands. Evie refrained from wincing at Cassandra’s firm clasp of her hand.

“And you own Bianca’s Bar,” said Evie. “I visited there with Dorian when I first arrived. Cole gave me a pink lemonade.”

“Ahh yes, our Cole is a special kind of… special.”

Cassandra grimaced. “I question his apparent powers. It’s all foolishness if you ask me.”

“You just don’t like him because he insists on serving you frozen strawberry daiquiri.”

Cassandra made a noise of disgust. “The wine selection here is rather limited,” she said, ignoring her husband and glancing at Evie. “Were you purchasing wine for a particular occasion?”

“To take to Dorian and Bull’s barbeque tomorrow night,” said Evie, frowning at the assortment of bottles.

“We’ll see you there then,” said Varric. “I was going to head over before going to the tavern for the evening.”

“Dorian likes shiraz,” said Cassandra, joining Evie’s contemplation of the wine. “We like to sit and drink wine and discuss literature. I was considering starting a local book club.”

Varric made an amused noise. “He only reads those romance novels to humour you.”

“He is a little scathing of them, but I enjoy our discussions nevertheless.”

Evie looked at Cassandra and grinned. “Have you read the Pirate’s Wench series? That’s one of my favourites.”

Cassandra clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Oh yes! The part where the dashing Pirate Captain confesses his love for the lonely heiress in the middle of the duel to save her from the clutches of the wicked prince? I’ve never read anything so romantic.”

“I agree. And when she wears the pearlescent blue dress made from hand woven fabric he fetched for her from across the Amaranthine sea?”

The Nevarran woman sighed happily. “Oh by the Maker, that was perfection.”

Varric shook his head, then grinned. “Much as I hate to interrupt you ladies, I have a tavern to run.”

Cassandra hummed a reluctant agreement. “Yes, and I need to go and feed Leliana’s nugs. She’s out of town for the weekend and I am the only one she trusts to care for them.”

“She used to trust Josephine too,” said Varric, “but there was the incident when the male, what’s it called? Shmi? Schmackos? Schmooples? I can’t remember. Anyway, Josie accidently fed it an entire head of iceberg lettuce and there were digestive consequences.”

Cassandra shuddered. “Yes, Leliana’s ottoman will never be the same. Well, it was pleasant to meet you finally, Evie.”

“I enjoyed meeting you both too. I’d love to be part of a bookclub if you form one.”

Cassandra favoured her with a bright smile. “We’ll discuss details tomorrow at the barbeque. Even if we don’t formalise the arrangement, you are welcome to join Dorian and I on our literature evenings.”

Varric snorted and said “’Literature’” with air quotes.

“Quiet, husband. You are just jealous you haven’t finished writing Swords and Shields yet.”

They bid Evie farewell and left the store, continuing to bicker good naturedly.

Evie chose a moderately priced Rivaini shiraz, then strolled along the path through the forest that lead to her cabin, enjoying the serene atmosphere.

_It would be nice if I had someone to go home to._

“Maker’s breath, where did that come from?” she said aloud.

_The whole point of coming here was to be alone and control my own life. My own cabin, my own books, my own food and plates and forks and coffee mugs. My own bed. Well, when I get a bed. A life of celibacy though, not something I really thought through in my haste to leave Ostwick and revel in my glorious freedom._

“I could just find someone to hook up with?” she said to a passing crow, who gave her a side-eye. “Perhaps a friends with benefits arrangement? No relationship to deal with but I don’t have to live the life of a Chantry sister.”

The crow squarked.

“Yeah, I don’t know who either,” Evie muttered. “There must be some sort of aphrodisiac in Haven’s water because everyone here seems to be paired up already.”

_Except Cullen._

A shiver of arousal made itself felt at the thought of him.

“No, that’s a terrible idea,” she said aloud again. “He’s my boss. My cute boss, yes, but sleeping with my employer is a mighty bad plan.”

The crow flew away in a bustle of feathers.

“He probably wouldn’t be interested anyway,” she muttered to the departing bird.

_I could just buy a vibrator online. Seems a safer bet than inviting a total stranger from a website into my secluded cabin in the woods or propositioning my boss_. _Yeah, okay, Adult Black Emporium Online here we come._

 

***

 

Late Saturday afternoon Evie knocked on the door to Dorian and Bull’s immaculate woodland cottage and beamed as Dorian answered and ushered her inside.

“I found the path here,” she said, taking her muddy shoes off and leaving them neatly with the others beside the entryway, “it branches off from where I walk to work. Still creepy though.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose. “That should improve in summer. Every other season I find the forest looks like murder. All those crows. I feel like a target for assassination, the way they stare at me.”

Evie offered the bottle of wine to Dorian. “I bought you this. There wasn’t quite the selection I’m used to from Ostwick, but according to the Wines of Thedas website it’s a decent drop.”

“You naughty girl, you didn’t have to bring anything,” Dorian scolded, then examined the label. “Good choice though, an excellent vintage. Come and join us at the kitchen table, I haven’t started cooking yet. Your colleagues are plaguing Cullen about the bakery competition and watching that is much more fun.”

Evie sat in the chair beside Cullen to chorus of greetings from around the table. Bluebell was sitting behind Cullen’s chair, sporting her pink bandanna. She stood up to greet the newcomer enthusiastically, and Evie gave the Mabari a kiss on the nose.

“I’ve put our Ferelden’s Greatest Bakery entry in,” Cullen explained as Evie sat back at the table. “I printed the details, though Bull is complaining it’s not electronically delivered.”

His voice made the inappropriate thoughts of the previous evening come rushing back and she ruthlessly shoved them to the back of her mind.

Bull snorted. “Hey, as I keep saying Boss, we’ve all got smartphones we can read documents on, even little Miss No Electricity over there.”

Evie grinned then poked her tongue out at Bull, who winked in return with his one eye.

“You’re just killing trees by printing everything,” the Qunari continued.

“I purchase recycled paper,” Cullen said primly.

Evie took a photo of Cullen’s entry for later reference, then sat back and read the details.

“They’ll be coming with a camera crew to Dough Business?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “We’ll have to be on our best behaviour.”

“You must improve your décor, Cullen,” said Dorian, coming over to the table with a glass of wine for Evie. He sat beside his husband and stroked Bull’s bicep absently. “You could have a thousand fairy lights adorning the public area of the bakery! Or what about making tiny little sunflowers with yellow cellophane and stick them over the twinkling lights to match the ones on the tables? Or maybe a sunflower and unicorn motif? Unicorns are in vogue with the restaurant community at the moment.”

Cullen looked horrified. “Maker’s breath, no unicorns.”

Evie gave Cullen a cheeky grin. “Our staff uniform could include unicorn horns. You’d look quite fetching.”

Krem leaned back in his chair and let out a loud guffaw. “Would we have to wear them on our heads?”

Bull joined in his laughter. “I’ll take two.” He paused and looked down at himself. “Wait, make that three.”

Dorian pursed his lips. “I’m aware you aren’t being serious, but it would certainly make you stand out from the crowd.”

Cullen appeared torn between scowling and laughing. “No unicorn horns. On our heads or otherwise.”

“Spoilsport,” said Evie, between giggles.

Dorian sat up in his chair. “Oh! What about convincing Leliana to sing as the judges inspect the premises? Live entertainment always adds a touch of class to any establishment.”

“I agreed to put the Bakery in the competition, not turn my business into a cabaret.”

Bull chuckled. “We appreciate your artistic ideas, Kadan, but maybe we should stick to quality produce and not froufrou.”

Dorian looked aghast. “Well, Bull, I never thought I’d see the day. A statement like that from the man with the largest collection of boutique handstitched organic cotton ethically sourced frilly aprons in southern Thedas?”

Bull patted his husband’s head soothingly. “I know, I know. But we have to think of Cullen too.”

“So we’ll enter the Sourdough and Cupcake sections,” Cullen interjected.

Evie zoned out of the conversation to read the several paragraphs of details that were at the end of the document. She skimmed through them until something caught her eye.

“Ahh, guys? Did you realise we have to produce at least one video showcasing the bakery and our skills,” said Evie when Bull paused for breath in his excited planning for what cupcakes he would make.

“Maker’s grace, really? As well as the judges and the camera crew?” Cullen leaned forward to peer at the document Evie was reading.

He was very close to her, his hair looked soft, and she idly wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it.

_Shit Evie, stop ogling Cullen. He’s my boss. Remember, I’m just a little lonely and kind of horny. Lorny? Honely? It’s making me want to make some bad decisions. He’s off limits._

She cleared her throat. “It’s in the small print, look down here.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Boss. The Iron Bull was born to decorate cupcakes on camera. I’m going to wear the frilliest fucking apron I’ve got.” The Qunari sighed happily.

“We need to figure out a stage name for you then. How about the Cupcake Chief?” said Krem.

“Nice,” Bull rumbled approvingly.

“What do you reckon, Miss Trevelyan? You’re cute, you could help out.” Krem gave her a roguish grin.

Evie gave a snort of amusement. “That’s the first time a guy has called me cute in forever.”

Krem laughed and leaned over to give her hair a friendly ruffle. “Sorry Evs, you are cute, but my heart is with Maryden.”

Evie faked a maidenly swoon. “You wound me, good sir, I’m not sure I can recover.”

The young Tevinter man smiled at her. “Anyway, Grim thinks you are cute. He told me so.”

Evie frowned as she tried to put a face to the name, then slapped the table as she remembered. “The blond human man from the garage? Maker, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him talk. He is rather attractive though.”

Krem arched an eyebrow. “Well now. I’ll have to tell him you think so.”

Bull gave an approving nod. “He’s a nice guy. Great in the sack I hear.”

Evie made an interested noise. “Really?” she said thoughtfully.

_Could I find a friends with benefits situation here after all? A friend of a friend would be safe enough, surely?_

Cullen choked on the beer he was drinking. Bull slapped him on the back several times until he stopped coughing.

“I don’t want to know where you get all this information, Bull,” said Dorian in a long-suffering tone.

“Anyway,” Cullen interjected, more forcefully than usual, his eyes still watering from his coughing fit. “Can we talk about the competition?”

Bull gave him a long, searching, look before sitting back and resuming the conversation. “Sure, Boss. So Evie, what do you think about the idea?”

Evie scrunched up her nose. “The video part sounds less great than the competition part.”

“You aren’t keen on internet stardom?”

“For you or me? I can’t say I’m particularly interested in fame. I like the quiet life.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Finally, a sensible opinion.”

“So much sass, Boss. We should give you beer more often.”

Krem leaned forward earnestly. “For Bull though, if you aren’t into it. He’ll be a YouVid sensation.”

“Oh Maker yes,” said Evie. “I can picture you being a star Bull, frilly apron and all.”

Bull nudged Dorian, who sighed heavily. “See Kadan? It was meant to be.”

“I am going to barbeque us some delicious meat. You can plan your fame riddled future.”

Bull smiled toothily. “I’m always into your meat, Dorian.

Dorian harrumphed and flounced off.

Krem dropped his head to the table and groaned. “That’s terrible, Cupcake Chief.”

They talked shop for a little while, and everyone enthusiastically greeted Cassandra and Varric when they arrived, as well as Thom Rainier and Dorian’s colleague Josephine from the library.

Evie requested a non-alcoholic drink after two glasses of wine and Bull handed her a pink lemonade with a smile. She went off to talk to Dorian, who was at the barbeque with the air of a man single-mindedly undertaking a vitally important task.

“This all looks great, Dorian,” she said.

And it did, the hot plates featured a selection of sausages, sliced onion and large field mushrooms. To the side sat some huge raw steaks.

Gesturing to the steak, Dorian looked like a proud father showing off his first born. “The finest organically produced, hand raised Ferelden druffalo ribeye. Look at that marbling.”

Evie eyed the steak and made an appropriately approving noise.

“Also, Bull insisted I get sausages. Processed meat is an affront to good taste, but I confess the lamb and mint with the merest hint of felicidus aria are rather moreish. Seggrit may be a boor, but his smallgoods are top quality.” Dorian poked the sausages a little too aggressively.

“Well I’m looking forward to trying them. And one of those steaks.”

“I’ll be cooking the steaks to order, how do you have yours cooked and seasoned?”

“Rare please, with salt, pepper and garlic butter.”

Dorian nodded approvingly. “Excellent.”

One steak cooking session later, Evie flopped into the only free seat, which was beside Cullen. She’d piled her plate with food, including a large slice of Cullen’s delicious sourdough which had been made into garlic bread.

She devoured her meal with single-minded intensity, letting the nearby conversations flow over her.

“I’ve been living on rice and chickpeas at home,” she said to Cullen when she was almost finished, “so this steak is tasting Maker-sent. I spent my first paycheque on getting the gas supply to the cabin fixed up, so I’ll be able to cook with an actual oven soon.”

Cullen looked horrified. “Maker’s breath, if you are going hungry I’m happy for you to take some food from Dough Business home with you.”

Evie swallowed her mouthful, waving her fork dismissively. “I don’t mind it, the novelty of my new life is still there. Everything in my house is mine alone, including the huge bag of dried chickpeas and the dodgy iron fireplace. Even the old wingback chairs and my hot water and cooking gas supply. It’s wonderful.”

Cullen sat back and looked at her. “I never thought of it that way. Did you have roommates in Ostwick?”

Evie shook her head. “No, I lived with my shitty ex, in a ridiculously expensive apartment. It was like a show home, no personality at all.  I love the quirkiness of my little cabin.”

“Even without electricity?”

“Even without electricity.” Evie looked at him through her eyelashes. “Do you enjoy living alone?”

Cullen nodded slowly. “I grew up in a big noisy family and yes I do appreciate the quiet. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had so much privacy.”

_Do you ever get lonely?_ she thought, and then suppressed a wince. _Ugh, stop, down girl._

“And you don’t really live by yourself, you have a particularly lovely lady living with you,” Evie said, grinning over at Bluebell who was sitting a polite distance away but eyeing the steaks.

Cullen laughed. “I do indeed.”

It was nice chatting to Cullen, especially about non work-related topics. There was a hum of conversation in the air, but no one was trying to interrupt their discussion.

“I remember you mentioning before that you’ve had the bakery for almost three years. Did you live in Haven before that?”

Cullen paused and fiddled with the label of his beer. “No I came from Kirkwall, I was… I was a Templar stationed there.”

_Oh shit. A Templar in Kirkwall. Neither are good situations._

She remembered the day when freedom fighters from the separatist group The Circle blew up the main Chantry in Kirkwall, killing hundreds of people. It was a sickening act of violence, but provoked by atrocities committed against Circle members.

_Freedom fighters or terrorists, depending on your viewpoint._

Evie realised she was staring at him. “Ahh,” she said, desperately trying to think of something to say. “The Ostwick governing council recently lifted the Do Not Travel advisory for residents wanting to visit Kirkwall.”

_Yeah good one. Way to make it worse, Evie. The Templars were closely involved with supressing the ongoing protests and tied to the civil unrest._

Mercifully, Cullen snorted a laugh. “Kirkwall is not the most stable of cities, the travel ban was a good idea.”

_Think of something polite to say_.

“I’m glad you aren’t a Templar any longer,” she murmured. “Being a baker is much safer.”

_Not great, but not terrible_.

Cullen focused his gaze down at his hands. “Yes, it is considerably safer,” he replied softly.

“Hey Curly,” called Varric from across the yard. “Have you told Evie about the time you ended up naked after losing at Wicked Grace?”

Cullen flushed bright red, and Evie put her hand over her mouth and laughed. She joined Cullen in walking over to chat with Varric and Cassandra, including salacious details of Cullen’s streak through Haven.

Lying in her nest of blankets that night, feeling slightly tipsy and pleased with all the socialising at the barbeque, Evie pondered the revelation of Cullen’s former occupation.

Templars had a difficult reputation in Thedas, as unfeeling enforcers of the worst in military excess. They were elite soldiers, highly trained and feared by the general public. There were rumours they were drugged to increase their mental and physical capacities. She couldn’t reconcile what she knew of the Templar Order with what she knew of quiet, serious but kind Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how it works in other parts of the world, but in Australia and New Zealand if the host says you don’t need to actively contribute to the food selection at a barbeque, you still take something along anyway! Not anything big, but something like a bottle of wine or a box of chocolates.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horribly terribly stuck on the next chapter of my main fic "The Price of War" so here, have another chapter of my fluffy side fic!

The Circle interrogator flicked her finger against the syringe. Cullen watched as a pearlescent droplet of liquid spilled over the tip of the needle.

He tried to fight the injection, as he always did, but she’d bought helpers to hold him down. Other Circle terrorists, who glowered at him like he was the sole cause of their grievances. She didn’t need so many assistants now, after the deprivation of both food and liberty had weakened his body considerably.

The demons came, as they always did after he received the drug. He knew in theory it was an hallucinogen, but knowing something is very different to believing when it’s standing right in front of you.

Solona was first, as she always was. His high school crush, just as shy as him. Years of Chantry indoctrination about the dangers of sin stopped them ever approaching the other. All he’d ever wanted was to be a Templar, he always tried to hold himself to a higher moral standard.

She stood in front of his emaciated body, naked, lush and glorious. Her auburn hair cascaded over her silky skin. Maker, he had wished she was real.

Her eyes glowed a sickly yellow.

 _Solona’s eyes were blue_ , Cullen thought.

“Begone demon,” he whispered.

The demon tipped her head back and laughed.

“Tell me about the Templars plans for the Circle, Cullen,” she murmured in Solona’s voice, “and I’ll give you everything you ever wanted from me. I wonder if you touched yourself imagining me. I did the same. Let me show you.”

He dragged his eyes up to her. “Blessed are they,” he recited in a rasping voice, “who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.”

Young Solona became Agatha, giving him that same reproachful gaze she gave him when he left Kirkwall. Abandoned her and the Order. Silver threaded her short black hair, lyrium gave her dark circles under her eyes.

She ran a finger down his bare chest, reproach changing to the slow gentle smile she always gave him before they were intimate.

“Come on Cullen,” her voice was almost correct in the soft and precise cadence, “let’s make love. I’ll even let you keep the light on. You just have to let me in.”

He kept his gaze on her soulless eyes. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”

Quick as a flash Agatha became Evie. Her reddish-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, her smile bright and beautiful as it always was.

“Not her now too,” he snarled, keeping his eyes resolutely up on her face and away from the soft pale curves of her naked body.

Evie leaned forward, her yellow eyes glowing an unwholesome tint in the dim light of his cell.

“You’ve been thinking about me,” she said in her musical voice. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

She pushed him to the floor and straddled him.

Weak as he was, Cullen cursed as his body reacted to her.

“What are the Templar plans for the Circle?” she asked, a dagger suddenly appearing in her hand.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.” He tore his gaze away from her face and stared up at the roof of his cell.

She caressed down his ribs, before dragging the dagger down too. Cullen felt the warm blood dripping down his body as the pain flashed brightly through him.

“In their blood the Maker's will is written,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Evie pushed the dagger deeper into him.

 _I’m going to die_ , Cullen thought. Strangely, the idea was a relief.

Despite himself, he struggled, the drugs coursing through his veins making him sluggish. Evie kept him pinned to the ground with unnatural strength.

“No, no,” he whimpered, “don’t, please no.”

Cullen’s eyes flew open, to the sight of Bluebell nudging his shoulder with her snout to wake him up. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, patting the Mabari with one hand and clutching his ribs where he felt the phantom pain of the dagger with the other. The scar he had there was faint now, all these years later.

He ran through his breathing exercises, his racing heart slowing down as he did so.

“Thank you, girl,” he said when he had caught his breath.

He glanced at the clock. It was one in the morning. Bluebell gave a low bark and trotted to the other side of the bed to jump up beside Cullen. He didn’t shoo her off, instead he curled up and laid his head on her side, listening to her heart beating.

 _Maker I wish I could have some lyrium_.

The craving didn’t come to him often these days, and it surprised him. Lyrium dampened the nightmares, infused his body and mind with a strength and purpose that the unenhanced world lacked.

 _The price of this being ultimately madness and death_ , he reminded himself. _A price too high_.

Cullen sat up in bed, causing Bluebell to whine in her sleep. He reached over to his bedside table for his phone, opened his podcast app and started scrolling through his favourite shows.

“’Flour Power’, no,” Cullen read aloud, “‘Ferelden Rugby Weekly’, no; ‘Discussions about the First Blight’, no; oh here we go, ‘Aspects of Ferelden Military History’.”

He put the podcast on his phone for his brain to focus on as he lay awake with his eyes closed until it was time for work.

 

***

 

Cullen carefully positioned the fresh Olive Batards in one of the bread baskets behind the counter. This was a particularly nice batch, if he said so himself, pleasingly shaped with a decent olive distribution, a good spring and a dense crumb.

He gave a sideways glance at Evie. She was serving customers with her customary cheerfulness.

She’d been on his mind increasingly since Bull and Dorian’s barbeque, a week ago now. The more time he spent with her the more he enjoyed talking to her. It was easy, far easier than he found talking to most people, especially women.

His Templar training hadn’t prepared him to socialise in the outside world. They were an insular force, expected to socialise only within their own ranks. His capture and subsequent torture at the hands of fringe Circle separatists when he was only nineteen had only enhanced his natural reticence.

 _That’s well over a decade ago now_ , he thought to his surprise. _Where did the time go? First the torture at Kinloch Hold, then the mess of Kirkwall and now I’m a baker. My whole adult life and what do I have to show for it? Only one serious relationship and I’m a recovering lyrium addict._

“Would you like a coffee, Cullen?” Evie’s low voice interrupted his reverie. “I’m making some for the boys and myself, I’m happy to do one for you too.”

He blinked and focused on her. Her dark eyes were fixed on him, and she had a faint smile curving her lips. They were glossy, and she smelled very faintly of strawberries.

_Is she wearing strawberry lip gloss? Maker I wish I could taste it on her lips._

“Are you okay?”

She now looked concerned, and Cullen mentally shook himself.

“A coffee…” He paused and cleared his throat. “A coffee would be nice. Thank you. Ah, just my usual.”

Her expression of concern faded, and she blessed him with her lovely smile. “One short black, extra strong and basically coffee flavoured tar, coming right up.”

She spun back to the counter, intent on the coffee machine.

 _Pull yourself together, man. She’s your employee and she’s far too good for someone like you_.

Cullen turned back to the bread baskets, fussing unnecessarily with the labels.

“Hey buddy,” said Bull’s booming voice. “Good to see you.”

Cullen turned around again, to see the man from the garage, Grim, standing at the counter, eyeing Evie with undisguised interest.

“Oh, hi there Grim,” said Evie, turning away from the coffee machine and wiping her hands on her apron, “how can I help you?”

Grim wordlessly slapped something down on the counter and looked at Evie.

“Ah,” Evie said, sounding perplexed. “You have tickets for the Redcliffe Folk music festival. That’s very, um, nice. Good for you, Grim.”

“Would you like to go with me?” Grim muttered in a monotone.

Cullen had never witnessed Grim speaking before. He glanced over to where Bull was standing beside his cupcake cabinet, regarding Grim like a proud mother hen.

“Oh. Ohhhh.” Evie’s head turned slightly towards Cullen, and he thought she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, but then she gave her head a small shake and seemed to gather herself. “Maker, I haven’t been to a concert in ages. So yeah, sure I’ll go. Thank you for asking me,” she said politely.

Cullen realised he’d crushed the end of a sourdough loaf in his hand. He winced and shoved the damaged loaf underneath the others in the basket to hide the evidence. He brushed the crumbs surreptitiously on his apron, ignoring the knowing look Bull shot him from his position at the cupcake cabinet.

Cullen distracted himself from the next part of the conversation by restacking all of the loaves, but there was only so long he could take to do that job. As he turned towards the kitchen, he heard Grim mutter, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Lovely, I’m looking forward to it.” Evie’s voice rose at the end of the sentence, like it was a question.

 _That’s wishful thinking from me_.

Cullen paused and watched Evie watch Grim leave the bakery. She tapped her fingers on the counter, seemingly lost in thought, then turned back to her coffee making duties.

Bull abandoned his cupcakes to lean on the counter, grinning at Evie. “Hey, I heard about that festival. Vinsomer and the Highland Ravagers are playing.”

Evie sounded sceptical. “At a folk festival?”

Bull shrugged. “Yeah, they are trying to ‘find their roots’ or something like that. I wanted to go, but it’s Dorian’s birthday and he’s not a fan.”

“It’ll be fun. Grim seems… nice now he’s speaking.”

“He’s a little eccentric,” Bull conceded cheerfully, “but once you get past that you can get home and fuck his brains out.”

Cullen involuntarily emitted a strangled noise then made a beeline back into the kitchen.

“Um,” Evie said as he brushed past them. “Well. We’ll see.”

“That’s the spirit.” Cullen could hear the grin in Bull’s voice.

Cullen went straight to the storeroom to gather his thoughts, luckily left to his own devices by Krem who was absorbed in icing his cinnamon rolls.

_She’s allowed to go on a date. I have no right to jealousy._

He neatly stacked the large tins of cooked apples, wiping off the traces of flour that had collected under the rims of the tins.

_I’ve only known her for a few weeks. The most we’ve talked outside of work topics was at the barbeque._

He was lining up the sacks of stoneground unbleached white flour into ‘best before’ date order when Bull appeared in the doorway. The Qunari leaned on the frame, angled his horns so they didn’t hit the lintel, and regarded Cullen.

“Don’t you have something better to do, Boss?”

“Organising the storeroom is always useful,” Cullen replied shortly.

Bull’s voice was unusually quiet. “You could ask her out you know.”

“I’m her boss,” Cullen replied though clenched teeth.

Bull made a dismissive hand gesture. “Semantics. You’re both adults, you’d work it out.”

“Well she’s going on a date with Grim now.” Cullen heard the gloom in his own voice.

Bull snorted. “What’s the problem? Grim isn’t relationship material.”

Cullen stared at him and frowned. “Then why did you encourage it?”

Bull rolled his eyes. “They both need to get laid. Evie has the look of someone who needs some uncomplicated physical release. Grim is uncomplicated, and he recently came out of a messy break up.”

“Well,” said Cullen stiffly, “good luck to them.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Boss. Who cares who she does or doesn’t sleep with? You have no claim on each other. Yet.”

“I’ll consider it,” muttered Cullen. “After their date.”

“Good man,” said Bull, giving Cullen a broad grin. “You get ‘er, champ.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ser Agatha is a Templar in Kirkwall in DA2, but you only meet her if you side with Meredith (I feel I need to add the disclaimer that I have never sided with her, haha).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this chapter. Let me know what you think! :D

Evie eyed her boxes of clothes speculatively.

_Jeans are date clothes, right? They say ‘casual and fun’ and ‘I put some effort into this outfit but not too much effort because I’m a functioning adult who is totally not panicking about what to wear’._

“Okay, so jeans,” she said to the boxes, “and a jumper? But I don’t want to wear that under my coat and get hot and sweaty. Or do I take my coat off? It’s cold outside at night but not jumper and coat cold. Or I could wear a light jumper?”

_It’s better to be a little cold, but not freezing. So, my thin Snoufleur hair jumper and my coat with a cute scarf?_

“And shoes. There are my ankle boots. Ankle boots and jeans are a thing? I’m sure they are a thing. I’ll make them a thing.”

Evie realised she was having a conversation with her apparel and clamped her lips together.

_Time for a quick wash and I’ll get dressed and ready and stop obsessing. It’s just a date. No pressure. Regardless of Bull’s opinion, I’m not going to jump Grim tonight. This is just a nice getting to know each other outing._

She had the sudden thought of Cullen taking her on a date to a dog park, drinking takeaway coffees and laughing at Bluebell’s antics. Or a lovely walk along Haven’s lake, holding hands and enjoying the beautiful scenery. Or cuddling on Cullen’s couch in his little apartment, Bluebell sprawled at their feet, watching movies then falling into bed afterwards, tangled in each other’s arms…

“Okay Evie,” she said aloud again, “that’s enough. Fantasising about my unobtainable boss, no. Thinking about the guy I am going on an actual date with, yes.”

She washed and dressed, brushed her hair and put on a little makeup. She had barely started pacing anxiously when she heard Grim’s car rumbling up the driveway.

The inside of his car was messy, and he had to shift some burger wrappers so she could sit in the front passenger seat.

“Hi Grim,” she said, wincing as her voice squeaked nervously.

He gave her a formal nod. “Evie,” he grunted.

He backed out of her driveway and turned onto the road.

“Soooo,” said Evie, fiddling with the strap of her seatbelt. “This concert will be fun. I’ve heard this is a really popular folk festival, thanks for inviting me.”

He grunted again, and she looked at him, unsure if she should say anything else.

He seemed to be on the cusp of speaking for quite some time. “You’re welcome,” he said eventually.

“I haven’t been to Redcliffe since I moved to Haven. I’m looking forward to seeing it again.”

“It’ll be dark.” Grim’s voice was a monotone.

“Yes. Yes it will.” Evie said weakly. “Well. Um.”

_Come on Evie, make small talk with your date. He’s quite handsome. He even looks a little like Cullen but not nearly as attractive._

She huffed a breath of frustration at herself.

_Come on, just find something to say._

“I was doing some reading about Sammy Champion and the Sunshine band,” she said finally. “Did you know that Sammy has been through five managers since their last big concert? I can’t wait to see if he’s going to publicly fire anyone tonight.”

“That’s a conspiracy,” remarked Grim dismissively. “Sammy Champion is actually an entity created by a corporation for the benefit of the big folk music promotors. Big Folk. BigFo. He’s played by a number of different actors. No-one can tell the difference under that blond perm.”

Evie blinked, taken aback by the flurry of words. “Ooookay then.”

_Well at least he’s talking_.

For such a taciturn man, Grim was obviously happy to talk when he was passionate about the subject. By the time they reached Redcliffe, Evie was well acquainted with the perils of the big folk music promotors.

Grim quickly found a park, and they walked together into the Redcliffe showgrounds.

They stood in the busy crowd, waiting for the first performers to come on stage. The atmosphere smelled strongly of burning Witherstalk and Evie saw many people with the pipes used to smoke that or the much stronger Ghouls Beard. She inhaled deeply, then coughed.

_Let’s keep a clear head, shall we? No Witherstalk, no alcohol_.

“Well,” Evie began, after long minutes of silence. “The moons are looking beautiful tonight. I love how clear the sky is at night when you aren’t in a city.”

Grim looked up at the moons. “Satina is a projection. It’s not actually there.”

Evie gave Grim a sideways glance.

_Is he joking? He’s surely joking._

Evie forced a weak laugh. “That’s very, um, funny. You could also say it’s a projection for all the hopes and dreams we have when we gaze up into the sky.”

Grim shot her a confused look. “It’s a literal projection, Evie. People who still believe in the moons need to face reality. I’ve done my research, there are plenty of clips on YouVid that will show you the truth.”

_He’s a Moon Denier? Dear Maker, is that a thing now? How do I even comment on that?_

“So, um, where’s it being projected from?” she said carefully.

Grim shrugged. “The palace in Denerim.” His tone of voice implied it was obvious.

The three harpists from the group Floral Vignette came onto the stage, so they were unable to finish the conversation. Evie was secretly relieved to focus on the intricate melodies of the band and not on her date.

“Can I get you a drink?” Grim asked at the end of the set.

“I’ll have a bottle of water please.” Evie rummaged in her handbag for some cash.

“I’ll pay,” said Grim magnanimously. “Although festival drinks have an appalling mark up.”

He elbowed his way through the crowd, towards the concession stands and Evie looked up at Satina as she waited for her date to arrive back.

“Ancient Thedosians used to worship you,” she whispered to the moon. “Shame they didn’t realise you were being projected from Denerim palace.” Evie stifled a giggle behind her hand.

Grim came back with a craft beer for himself and Evie’s water bottle. The packaging announced that it was ‘The Finest Organic Biodegradable Spring Water, Direct from Orzammar.’ She took a sip. It tasted much the same as her tap water.

He took a long drink of his beer. “I’m a King,” he announced abruptly.

Evie blinked, searching for an appropriate response. “Oh, are you King of the garage like how Dorian is the King of the barbeque and Bull is the King of cupcakes?”

Grim’s expression remained impassive. “I’m the King of a small country in the Kocari wilds.”

Evie took a moment to digest this information. “A literal King, like King Cailan Theirin?”

“I have nothing in common with that pretender.” Grim sounded greatly offended. “I’m the hereditary monarch of a dynasty dating back to the first Blight.”

_Hmm. Bull did say he was eccentric. I mean, I thought eccentric meant maybe collecting exotic teapots, or having twenty cats. But this? Well. I suppose eccentricity is a spectrum? This is definitely at one end of that range._

Grim was regarding her solemnly, seemingly awaiting a response.

Evie took a deep breath. “Oh. Well, good for you. Um, why are you living in Haven?”

“That’s a state secret,” said Grim bumptiously. “That’s on a need to know basis. Do you need to know?

Evie pursed her lips. “No?”

He looked disappointed. “Oh okay. Would you like a donut?”

Sammy Champion and the Sunshine Band came on the stage. The lead singer strutted up and down, brandishing his acoustic guitar. He was wearing a flower crown on top of his enormous mane of permed hair, which was starting to slip sideways, and he paused occasionally in his performance to dry hump the alarmed looking accordion player.  

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Evie yelled over the cheering of the crowd.

Grim nodded in acknowledgement, then pulled a donut out of his pocket. It appeared slightly congealed. To Evie’s dismay, he gave it a quick wipe and ate with relish.

_I’m going to have a word or three with Bull when I see him tomorrow._

Sammy Champion sadly did not fire anyone whilst on stage, though Evie was impressed at his ability to belt out folk music with the vocal performance of a rock god.

_Unless he’s one of the stand ins? Oh Maker, spending time with Grim is influencing me._

After Sammy Champion smashed his heirloom, handcrafted vhenadahl wood guitar at the feet of his lead flautist, signalling the end of the performance, the packed crowd dispersed slowly. Evie stuck close to her date, so they didn’t get separated.

As they reached the carpark, a furious looking dark-haired elven woman planted herself in front of Grim, who had to stop suddenly to avoid knocking her over. Evie stopped too, and the elf shot her a filthy scowl.

“Grim!” The newcomer spat his name with venom. “Why are you here with this stupid female shem?”

Grim hunched his shoulders. “You broke up with me, Skinner,” he mumbled.

She looked marginally less angry. “It was a break, you idiot. Not a break up.”

Grim jabbed a thumb on Evie’s direction. “I had no one to go to the festival with. I asked the girl from the bakery. Krem said she was nice.”

Evie cleared her throat. “Hi, I’m Evie.” She gave the other woman what she hoped was a non-threatening smile.

“Skinner,” the elf replied, giving Evie a long look up and down, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“I’m sorry nuglet, I didn’t mean to upset you,” muttered Grim to Skinner. “You’re always the Queen for me.”

“I should say so,” said Skinner flatly. She folded her arms in front of her chest and gave Grim a frown.

Grim shuffled his feet, apparently unclear as to his next move. Evie looked between the two of them, at a loss for words.

“I need a ride back to Haven,” Skinner said, in a brisk tone. “I hitchhiked here. Almost had to fucking shiv the handsy shem who dropped me off.” She spat on the ground.

Grim looked nervously at Evie. “You want a ride back to Haven with us?”

Skinner gave Evie a filthy glare from behind Grim’s back.

A vision of being pushed out of the moving car by the angry young elven woman came to Evie.

“Um, no. I’ve got friends here in Redcliffe,” Evie lied. “I’ll crash with them.”

“Okay,” said Grim in his low monotone. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Evie raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re super welcome,” she said flatly.

They walked towards into the now almost-empty parking lot holding hands, and Evie scowled at their departing backs. She could hear Skinner loudly demanding that they come back tomorrow to watch Vinsomer and the Highland Ravagers.

_This is not how I expected my evening to end_. _Well. Shit._

She flopped heavily down on a bench and looked at her phone. Things were looking creepy, and she wasn’t sure if she was upset or not. On one hand this would make a funny story to tell the boys tomorrow. On the other hand, she had just been ditched on the first date she’d had in a long time. It was like a bad daytime television tragicomedy.

_I should call Bull. It’s a big favour to ask on Dorian’s birthday but he’d totally come and get me. Shame the only phone numbers I have are Bull’s and Cullen’s._

She looked at the time on her screen.

“One in the morning,” she muttered.

She phoned Bull’s number. It rang for a while then went to voicemail.

_Shit. He mustn’t have it by his bed. I could call Cullen_.

She looked at his number in her phone. Then shook her head.

_I can’t call my boss at one a.m. If nothing else that’s way too damsel in distressy. Especially when, let’s face it, I’d rather have been on a date with him than Grim_.

“Okay,” she said softly, “plan B.”

Evie opened the internet browser on her phone and searched for Ferelden Bus lines. There were bus services between Redcliffe and Haven, leaving at seven in the morning. Not early enough for her to make it in time for work though.

_I can walk to the depot and wait there for a few hours. Or maybe the local police station would let me wait in their foyer, that’s got to be safer than an empty bus depot_.

She looked around. A security guard eyed her, but obviously deemed she didn’t look like a threat because she left Evie to her own devices. 

_I’ll send Cullen an SMS for when he wakes up and let him know I’ll be late for work. If he doesn’t mind me working in these clothes, I should be there by eight_.

 

**To Cullen Rutherford: Hi Cullen. Just letting you know I’ll be late for work. I’m stuck in Redcliffe until the next bus at seven a.m. I should be at work by eight. Thanks, Evie.**

 

A few seconds after she hit send, her phone rang. It was Cullen.

Evie frowned at the screen.

_This is awkward. I have to pick up, he knows I’ve got my phone right now_.

She hit the answer button. “Hey Cullen.”

His voice was a little raspy. “Evie. You’re stuck in Redcliffe? Are you alright?”

Evie felt an unwelcome lump in her throat at his concern. She swallowed heavily. “Shit, I’m sorry I woke you. I thought you’d get the message when you got up for work at three.”

There was a small pause. “I was already awake. What happened?”

“Yeah, there was a slight, um, hitch in my travel arrangements back to Haven. It’s fine though, not as bad as it sounds. I just need to wait a few hours for the bus, but it isn’t until seven which means I’ll be late for work.”

She heard Cullen huff out a breath into the phone. “I’m coming to get you. Is there anyone still at the venue?”

“There are security staff and a clean-up crew,” Evie said, looking around. “You don’t have to do that though, I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself.”

As Evie watched, one of the clean-up crew slipped over and dropped their rubbish bin. A large pile of wilted flower crowns and what looked like Witherstalk debris spilled out. A pack of nugs, all wearing collars and bells, suddenly appeared from behind the Elderflower cordial stand and streaked towards the bin debris.

“Of course you can take care of yourself,” Cullen was saying when she refocused on the phone call, “but I cannot in good conscience leave you to wait for hours by yourself in the dead of night.”

Despite herself, Evie was relieved. “Okay. Thank you for this.”

His voice was soft. “Just sit tight, I’ll be at the Redcliffe showgrounds in forty-five minutes.”

Evie watched as the frenzied nugs rolled around in the leftover Witherstalk, becoming increasingly mellow. The clean-up crew left them be, and eventually a young woman wearing a bowler hat and a ‘Sammy Champion and the Sunshine Band Road Bitches’ t-shirt came to collect the animals.

Cullen’s white pickup arrived in just forty minutes and she’d never been so glad to see him.

“Hi,” Evie said sheepishly as she climbed up into the front passenger seat of the truck.

“Good morning,” said Cullen, giving her a sidelong glance.

Bluebell was sitting on the backseat, wearing her car safety harness. She gave a single bark.

“Hi Bluebell,” Evie said, looking over her shoulder at the Mabari.

An awkward silence descended upon them as Cullen drove back onto the main road towards Haven.

Evie eventually spoke into the quiet. “Grim’s ex showed up at the end of the evening. Skinner, she said her name was.”

Cullen tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel as he thought. “Elven woman? Dark hair?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve met her. She came into the bakery once.” Cullen paused. “Ah, she threatened to geld me if her coffee order wasn’t to her satisfaction.”

Evie huffed a laugh. “That seems excessive. Though in her defence, bad coffee is very upsetting.”

“Indeed.” Cullen’s voice was dry.

Evie took a deep breath before she continued. “Anyway, and this part is sort of a blur, but they got back together and then left. Together.”

Cullen’s voice was incredulous. “He went off with his ex-girlfriend and left you?”

She hummed an agreement. “He offered me a ride back to Haven with himself and Skinner. I panicked slightly and said no, because oh wow the awkwardness.”

“What kind of man leaves his date stranded?” he sounded profoundly scornful.

“It wasn’t really a date.”

She could see Cullen quickly glance over at her in the dim light of the truck, before he looked back at the road.

Evie sighed. “Okay yes it was a date, but I didn’t want to ‘date’ date him.” She made air quotes.

Bluebell whined from the backseat.

“Oh don’t you judge me, girl. I feel stupid enough as it is.” Her voice cracked, and she was horrified to realise there was a tear rolling down her cheek. “Shit. I’m not upset. It was funny, honestly. I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”

“Night wasn’t what you expected?” Cullen reached into his pocket and passed her a clean, white, nicely folded and ironed handkerchief. In the low light she could see that the initials ‘CSR’ were monogrammed on the corner.

“You can say that.” Evie dabbed her eyes, wincing at the mascara stains on the cloth. “Cullen, he was a Moon Denier.”

“A moon what?” Cullen sounded perplexed.

“He said Satina was a projection from the palace in Denerim.”

Cullen started to laugh. “He doesn’t believe in moons?”

Evie giggled too. “No, he said he watched a bunch of YouVid clips and that was his research.”

Cullen laughed harder. “Oh Maker’s breath. That’s a new one.”

“And he had pocket donuts,” Evie said between giggles.

Cullen snorted through his nose. “Is that a euphemism?”

Evie wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. “He kept donuts in his pocket. Literal, deep fried donuts. He offered me one. I, ah, I declined.”

Cullen made a strangled noise. “That was probably wise.”

“And he said he was a King. An actual King, like King Cailan.”

“Now that one I have heard before.”

Evie adjusted her seatbelt as she twisted to look at Cullen properly. “Really?”

Cullen was nodding. “Bull mentioned it. He thinks it’s true.”

“I mean, normally I would believe Bull, but you know he considers that pink is a flavour.”

“That’s a new one. What flavour is pink?”

“All he says is that pink tastes like pink. So he might also be wrong about Grim.”

Cullen hummed an agreement. “King or not, Grim shouldn’t have left you in Redcliffe.”

“Well. Yeah, it’s probably not ideal.”

Cullen made a noise of derision. “No courteous man would behave in that way.”

His hair was curly and tousled from being in bed, and it was pale in the light from the moons. Evie studied his profile as he kept his eyes on the road.

_Maker he’s a good-looking man. More importantly, he’s kind and sweet. And my bloody boss._

Evie sighed and looked away, out of the window at the dark countryside.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Thank you for coming to pick me up,” she murmured.

“Any time, Evie,” he replied. “Any time at all.”


	9. Chapter 9

On Evie’s next day off following her unfortunate date, she spent the morning at home, weeding and digging the vegetable patch. It was nice to get outside into the cold crisp air and clear her head.

_And nice to have some quiet time_ , she thought.

Bull and Krem had fallen over themselves laughing at her recounting of what she was dubbing The Worst Date Ever. Apparently, Bull had no idea Grim didn’t believe in the moons and Krem had also thought the relationship with Skinner was officially over. Bull had given her what passed as a wink when he found out about Cullen swooping in with his pickup truck and rescuing her sorry ass.

_Let’s not think about Cullen. I’m in danger of crushing too hard on him and ruining my new career as a Happy Bakery Person. I’m enjoying myself too much to risk my new job._

She stood up and stretched her back, wiping the sweat off her brow as she did. The now-bare vegetable patch was looking decent. The previous evening Bull and Dorian had dropped off a large bin of compost and a stack of black boxes that turned out to be Bull’s first ever worm farm. He’d recently upgraded to a larger model, the Qunari had explained, and Evie had mentioned her desire to set up her own garden. Dorian hadn’t actually participated in any garden related activities, he was more interested in digging for details about The Worst Date Ever. Or, more accurately, Cullen’s participation in the date.

“And Cullen was all rumpled from sleep?” Dorian had asked. “Did he have those adorable Chantry boy curls?”

“He did,” Evie had conceded, “just like when he goes out for a run and comes back to the bakery all windswept and curly.”

They’d both sighed happily at the vision that thought had presented until Bull came over and ruffled an indignant Dorian’s hair and Evie had remembered she absolutely didn’t have a crush on Cullen.

Evie pushed her trowel into the freshly composted soil and walked over to where she’d set her new worm farm up.

“Hello little wormies,” she said as she lifted the black lid of the topmost box. Fat pink worms were wriggling amongst the soil and vegetable scraps. She partially filled a bucket with water from her outdoor tap and sprinkled it over them, as per Bull’s instructions. “Enjoy your food and drink.” She shut the lid and covered the boxes with a thermal blanket.

She took a deep breath of the pure mountain air. It was so different to Ostwick, which was muggy and polluted. Everything in Ostwick had a patina of greasy grime, which she hadn’t even realised until she’d left.

Evie looked up as the ringing of a bell caught her attention. The man from the garden centre, Solas, was coming down her driveway on a bicycle. There were two baskets on his bike, front and back, and he’d filled them with little pots of seedlings and clusters of bulbs. She waved an enthusiastic greeting and the elven man raised a hand in response.

“Miss Trevelyan,” Solas said politely as he parked his bicycle beside the shed where she’d stored her car. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Same to you, Solas. Thank you so much for delivering my plants, I’ve been looking forward to seeing them.”

“There is a selection of vegetables suitable for planting before winter, as we discussed, mostly members of the brassica family, as well as onions and garlic.” He looked up at the cloudy sky, as if judging the quality of the coming season. “I recommend you get a cover for particularly cold nights.”

Evie hummed an agreement. “Yes, I found a cover when I was clearing out the shed.”

“Excellent. I also found a large selection of bluebells, as per your request. I would suggest planting them around your home, rather than in with the vegetables.”

Evie grinned at the thought of taking a flower crown made of bluebells into the bakery, to present to one enthusiastic Mabari. “Alright. Thank you.”

Solas wheeled his bicycle over to the vege patch and systematically unloaded the trays of seedlings and bulbs onto the ground beside it. “They grow better with music,” he said, gently touching what Evie recognised as garlic bulbs. “It is almost like magic, how they respond.”

Evie looked speculatively at the beginnings of her new garden, all sitting tiny and new on the ground. “Does it matter what kind of music?” she asked.

“The genre of music is of no import.” Solas waved a graceful hand over the little plants. “You may play anything from Ostwick New Wave Experimental to a traditional Anderfels funeral dirge.”

“Branka and the Paragons of Death it is then. I’m thinking of getting more into Dwarven Death Metal. I had a recent unfortunate experience with folk music that I need to force out of my brain.”

Solas nodded solemnly. “Dwarven Death Metal would certainly be advantageous in doing just that. Negative Folk experiences can be haunting. Deeply haunting.” He adopted a pensive expression.

Evie didn’t get the impression he wanted to elaborate on any Folk music related trauma, so she didn’t ask.

_Maybe he had his own Worst Date Ever?_

Solas didn’t seem like a man who did anything as mundane as dating, but you never could tell.

Solas and his bicycle took their leave and Evie threw herself into planting her new vegetable babies into the prepared bed, and bluebell bulbs around her cabin.

Afterwards, she had a quick wash in the tub and flopped onto her makeshift bed in front of the fire, exhausted by a morning of intensive gardening. Just as she got comfortable, there was a soft knock at the door.

_Who on Thedas is that?_ she thought. _Surely door to door salespeople and Chantry zealots looking for converts don’t come to Haven._

She heaved herself upright and groaned as her muscles protested, feeling every one of her nearly thirty years.

Cole was standing on her doorstep, holding a cloth-covered basket. There was a large box sitting by his feet; it was battered and had ‘Finest Val Royeaux Claret: This Way Up’ printed on the side. Evie suspected the contents was not wine, not least because it was upside down and also had a cartoon penis drawn beside the word ‘up’. Evie assumed that was the work of Sera, the elven woman who usually worked the evening shift at Varric’s tavern. Sera was well known for drawing obscene images on the cardboard coasters that sat on the bar.

“Hello Evelyn,” he said, giving her a small smile.

“Hello Cole,” replied Evie, taken aback by his unexpected visit. “How are you?”

“I saw a friendly crow on the way here,” he said, fixing her with his watery blue gaze, “and he was very happy about the sunshine which made me happy too.”

_I wonder if Cole is a Moon Denier?_ Evie thought, and stifled a laugh by coughing into her fist.

“You know, I think I’ve talked to that same crow.”

Cole nodded languidly. “Yes, you have.”

“Mmm,” Evie said, peering intently at him. “Would you like to come in for a hot drink?”

“No thank you,” said Cole politely. “I must get to the tavern to start work, I’m working Sera’s shift this evening. I wanted to give you this first though.” He handed her the basket.

“Thanks?” she said cautiously.

Cole looked at her with an expectant expression. Evie jumped as the contents of the basket emitted a small squeak.

She pealed back the cloth that was draped over the top, to reveal a tiny tuxedo patterned kitten curled up on top of a hot water bottle.

“His family died and now he’s all alone,” said Cole softly. “He needs someone to look after him.”

Evie stroked the kitten’s fuzzy little head with one finger. He made a meeping noise and blinked blearily up at her with piercing blue eyes.

“He’s far too small to survive without his mother.”

“Yes, he is only two weeks old.” Cole’s voice was infinitely sad. “But the things he needs are in the box. I found a selection of nipples.” He nodded towards the box at his feet.

Evie pursed her lips and followed his gaze. “Th…thank you. Um. Thank you, Cole. Much appreciated.”

When she looked up, Cole had vanished and she was left holding the basket full of wiggly kitten. Evie backed inside, shifting the box with her foot as she did so. She scooped up the tiny creature with one hand and cuddled him into her chest.

She kissed his soft forehead. “I think you need a strong name. How about Bronto? Nothing is stronger than a Bronto.”

Bronto made another tiny peeping noise.

“That’s right, baby boy,” she crooned, “and you will grow up to be a big strong boy.”

She sat cross legged in front of the box, still cuddling Bronto, and set to examining the contents one handed.

“Let’s take a look at Cole’s nipples, shall we Bronto?”

There were feeding supplies, including bottles, and yes, a variety of nipples suitable for kittens, and kitten formula. There was a thick pamphlet with instructions on how to care for bottle fed kittens according to age.

She settled in for an afternoons study of Kitten Raising. Bronto snuggled under the neckline of her jumper and went to sleep on her chest, using her breasts as a cat shelf.

Early that evening, fortified with feline related knowledge, several cups of tea and a successful feeding and toileting of Bronto, she phoned Cullen.

“Hello Evie,” he said, and her treacherous heart gave a little flutter at the sound of his voice.

She focused on the matter at hand. “Hi Cullen. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Bluebell barked pointedly in the background and he huffed a gentle laugh. “Bluebell is fine too. Is everything alright? You haven’t been abandoned anywhere again have you?”

Evie rolled her eyes. “What? No. I’m at home.”

“Well. Good then. What can I do for you?”

“Well, uh, Cole gave me a kitten.”

There was a pause. “Maker’s breath. Do you want a ride to a local cat shelter?”

Evie gave an indignant squeak, which Bronto echoed with a volume that belied his size. “No! I named him, so now I have to keep him.”

“Alright.” Evie could hear the dubiousness in Cullen’s voice.  

“But I’m phoning because I need to bottle feed him every three hours.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Bring him to the bakery with you tomorrow morning, he can stay in my apartment while you work. I’ll even put the central heating on for him.”

Evie beamed. “Perfect! Thank you!”

“I’ll see you, ah, both of you tomorrow.”


End file.
